-«-• — -*w  'f^^amatHmmetKHm 

D.  LANGE 


•i/. 


.b 


THE  SILVER  CACHE 
OF  THE  PAWNEE 


"INDIAN"  STORIES 
WITH  HISTORICAL  BASES 

BY  D.  LAKGE 

12mo      Cloth      Illustrated 
Price  per  volume,  fl.25  net 

ON  THE  TRAIL  OF  THE   SIOUX 

THE  SILVER  ISLAND  OF  THE 

CHIPPEWA 

LOST  IN  THE  FUR   COUNTRY 
IN  THE  GREAT  WILD   NORTH 
THE  LURE  OF  THE  BLACK  HILLS 
THE  LURE   OF  THE  MISSISSIPPI 
THE  SILVER  CACHE  OF  THE 
PAWNEE 


MTHBOP,  LEE   & 


THEY  WERE  PULLED  OFF  THEIR  HORSES,  HELPLESS  CAPTIVES. 
Page  152. 


,i: 


JUN  13 

OUttPTOH  ACCESSIOi 

tCKQfl  LJ 

6/b  I* 


FOREWORD 

This  is  an  adventure  story  of  the  Old  Santa 
Fe  Trail. 

The  Old  Trail  ran  from  Independence, 
near  Kansas  City,  to  Santa  Fe,  across  the 
buffalo  country  of  the  Great  Plains,  a  dis 
tance  about  the  same  as  that  from  New  York 
to  Chicago. 

At  the  time  of  the  story,  about  1835,  the 
vast  American  prairies  west  of  the  Missis 
sippi  were  the  undisputed  territory  of  the 
buffalo  and  the  Plains  Indians. 

The  powerful  and  warlike  tribes  of  Paw 
nees  and  Comanches,  of  Arapahoes,  Chey- 
ennes,  Kiowas,  and  Sioux,  were  all  bold 
horsemen,  hunters,  and  warriors. 

Some  of  the  tribes  lived  south  and  some 
north  of  the  Arkansas  River,  where  it  flows 
through  the  present  States  of  Kansas  and 
Colorado. 

A  central  region  around  Walnut  Creek, 

3 


4  FOREWORD 

Pawnee  Eock,  and  Pawnee  Fork  in  the  pres 
ent  State  of  Kansas  was  inhabited  by  none 
of  the  tribes,  but  was  the  battle-ground  of 
them  all. 

It  was  through  this  dangerous  Indian  coun 
try  that  the  Santa  Fe  traders  took  their 
long  trains  of  heavy  wagons  drawn  by  oxen 
or  mules.  The  proud  Indians  of  those  days 
had  not  yet  felt  the  strength  of  the  United 
States  Army;  and  on  the  long  trip  of  eighty 
or  ninety  days  each  way,  the  men  of  the 
caravan  had  to  protect  themselves  against 
the  hordes  of  savages,  who  were  always  ready 
to  rob  and  scalp  the  traders. 

The  adventures  of  Silas  Benson  and  his 
two  sons  and  their  staunch  friend  Burley 
among  the  Pawnees  and  Comanches  are  told 
in  this  story.  Never  was  there  a  time  and 
a  country  of  more  stirring  romance  and 
bolder  adventure  than  the  period  and  the  re 
gion  of  the  Old  Santa  Fe  Trail. 

D.  LANGE. 

St.  Paul,  Minnesota, 
June,  1918. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  I 

PAGE 

THE  INDIAN  SIGN  STOET n 

CHAPTER  II 
A  SMALL  BOY'S  LOGIC 21 

CHAPTER  III 
STRING  OUT! 82 

CHAPTER  IV 
ON  THE  TRAIL 47 

CHAPTER  V 
OXEN  AND  MULES 58 

CHAPTER  VI 
ALAEM  AND  STAMPEDE 68 

CHAPTER  VII 
CATCHING  AN  ABBOW ...    80 

CHAPTER  VIII 
THE  HAUNT  OF  EVIL  SPIBITS 02 


6  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  IX 

PAGE 

To  PAWNEE  FORK •,.....  103 

CHAPTER  X 
THBOUQH  A  HAILSTORM  .........    w    .  112 

CHAPTER  XI 
THE  LOST  WAGON 124 

CHAPTER  XII 
CROSSING  THE  ARKANSAS     ......    ,.     .,    .  131 

CHAPTER  XIII 
THE  LONG  DRY  ROUTE 188 

CHAPTER  XIV 
A  COMANOHE  SURPRISE  ..    ...     ..    ...     .     .    ,.    ..,    ...  149 

CHAPTER  XV 
A  TROUBLED  WAGON-MASTER 167 

CHAPTER  XVI 
ON  THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  COMANCHE 164 

CHAPTER  XVII 
WHERE  WAS  Kio? 170 

CHAPTER  XVIII 
No  TRAIL  AND  No  WATER  .  .  177 


CONTENTS  7 

CHAPTER  XIX 

PAGE 

WELL  THEY  STOP? 188 

CHAPTER  XX 
DANGEBOUS  COMPANY .     .     .  197 

CHAPTER  XXI 
IN  RED  WOLF'S  CAMP     . 210 

CHAPTER  XXII 
CAPTIVE  OB  FREE? ,..!...  223 

CHAPTER  XXIII 
DESPEBATE  PLANS MO 

CHAPTER  XXIV 
A  DABING  VENTUBE 286 

CHAPTER  XXV 
AT  THE  GREAT  ADOBE  FORT 251 

CHAPTER  XXVI 
A  KNOTTY  PBOBLEM 261 

CHAPTER  XXVII 
THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  PAWNEE  CACHE 270 

CHAPTER  XXVIII 
HOMEWARD  BOUND  .  286 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


They  were  pulled   off  their  horses,   helpless   cap 
tives   (Page  152) Frontispiece 


FACING 
PAGE 


"Look,  Ted,  there  go  our  strays!" 50 

Why  Ted  had  stopped  walking  his  beat  like  a  soldier    72 

The  men  watched  the  captain  ride  calmly  into  the 
broad  river,  with  nothing  but  a  willow  switch 
to  guide  his  mount '  .  134 

"I  must  see  the  white  man  and  the  boy"  .     .     .     .216 

"Catch  them!  Catch  them!"  he  cried  as  he  threw 
a  handful  of  silver  into  the  air  .  .  284 


THE  SILVER  CACHE  OF 
THE  PAWNEE 

CHAPTER  I 

THE  INDIAN   SIGN   STOBY 

C  BOOKED  HORN,  the  old  Shawnee, 
who  lived  west  of  the  frontier  town 
of    Independence    on    the    Missouri 
River,  was  having  a  great  visit  in  the  store 
of  Jack  Langdon,  outfitter  for  the  Santa  Fe 
traders. 

The  old  store,  often  a  very  noisy  place, 
was  as  silent  as  a  church,  for  Langdon  and 
Crooked  Horn  were  conversing  in  the  Indian 
sign  language;  and,  although  they  had  been 
"talking"  for  half  an  hour,  not  a  word  had 
been  spoken. 

"Arapahoes,  Cheyennes,  Kiowas,"  Crook 
ed  Horn  was  just  saying  with  his  hands. 

11 


12  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

"Camp  Big  Timber.  Cold  winter.  Snow 
deep.  Horses  die." 

"Comanches  south.  Warm  country. 
Waiting  buffalo  go  north." 

"News  of  the  Pawnees?"  asked  Langdon. 

"Pawnees  bad  Indians,"  signaled  Crooked 
Horn. 

"Two  white  men  on  trail  from  Santa  Fe. 
Wagon,  four  mules.  Much  silver,  big  sack. 
Kill  one  man.  Take  silver. ' ' 

"When?" 

"Four  moons." 

"Where?" 

"Pawnee  Fork." 

At  this  point  of  the  story  Philip  Benson,  a 
lad  eighteen  years  old,  quietly  slipped  out 
and  mounted  his  pony  which  had  been  tied  to 
a  post  in  front  of  the  store. 

Of  the  half-dozen  men  in  the  store  no  one 
had  paid  any  special  attention  to  the  lad,  who 
was  well  known  at  Independence. 

It  was  now  the  middle  of  April,  1833,  and 
ever  since  December  of  the  previous  year,  the 
lad  had  been  a  weekly  visitor  in  the  lively, 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  13 

not  to  say  noisy,  frontier  town.  There  was 
the  usual  stir  connected  with  the  overland 
trade,  but  this  spring  much  excitement  had 
been  caused  by  the  outlook  for  a  conflict 
with  the  Mormons,  who  had  settled  in  large 
numbers  at  Independence. 

Philip  Benson  had  been  over  the  long  trail 
once  and  his  father  was  at  Santa  Fe  now. 
At  least  he  had  not  returned  from  a  trading 
trip  on  which  he  had  started  the  previous 
spring.  So  it  was  but  natural  that  Philip 
should  take  a  lively  interest  in  everything 
pertaining  to  the  Santa  Fe  Trail  and  the 
Santa  Fe  trade.  In  fact  the  whole  town  had 
no  other  interest.  Since  in  1828  the  Missouri 
Eiver  had  practically  swept  away  the  old 
town  of  Franklin,  Independence  had  become 
the  starting  point  of  the  Santa  Fe  Trail,  over 
which  moved  in  long  trains  of  heavy  wagons 
drawn  by  mules  or  oxen  the  whole  overland 
<trade  between  the  United  States  and  Mexico. 

Sometimes  the  lad  would  sit  with  a  wist 
ful  air  for  hours  in  one  of  the  numerous 
stores ;  at  other  times  he  would  chat  with  the 


14  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

workmen  and  the  customers  that  came  to  the 
wheelwright  shop  of  Sam  Garland,  who  made 
some  of  the  big  wagons  and  turned  out  thou 
sands  of  heavy  ox-yokes  every  year.  Then 
again  he  would  ride  to  the  outskirts  of  the 
town,  where  the  stockmen  herded  and  cor 
ralled  their  herds  of  oxen,  mules,  and  horses 
that  were  bought  and  sold  for  use  on  the 
long  trail. 

It  was  generally  known  that  Philip 's  father 
had  gone  with  a  supply  of  goods  to  Santa  Fe 
in  the  spring  of  1832  and  that  he  had  not  yet 
returned. 

Philip  in  all  the  places,  where  he  visited, 
listened  much,  but  said  little.  He  was  a  wel 
come  visitor  everywhere  on  account  of  his 
willingness  to  lend  a  hand  wherever  help 
was  needed.  If  a  merchant  needed  some 
extra  help,  Philip  was  ready.  Did  a  new 
comer  wish  information  about  supplies  and 
things  most  needed  on  the  trail,  young  Benson 
modestly  answered  all  his  questions.  If  cat 
tle  or  mules  had  strayed  away,  Philip  was  al 
ways  ready  to  ride  after  them  for  ten  or 


OP  THE  PAWNEE  15 

twelve  miles,  and  he  seemed  to  know  instinct 
ively  where  the  lost  stock  might  be  found. 

When  he  was  asked  about  his  father,  he 
generally  replied  that  he  had  no  recent  news, 
which  was  true.  In  his  heart,  he  was  sorely 
troubled  about  his  father's  safety,  but  this 
fear  he  kept  to  himself  and  he  tried  not  to 
let  his  mother  know  that  he  thought  it  strange 
that  his  father  had  not  returned  with  the 
last  caravan  in  December,  and  that  neither 
Indians  nor  white  men  brought  any  news 
from  him. 

Every  time  he  went  to  town  he  hoped  to 
meet  his  father  safely  returned,  or  to  pick 
up  some  news  as  to  his  whereabouts.  He 
knew  that  his  father  had  sold  all  his  goods 
at  a  liberal  profit,  but  this  he  kept  to  him 
self,  for  the  town  was  so  full  of  all  kinds 
of  criminals  and  doubtful  characters,  who 
would  have  liked  nothing  better  than  to  way 
lay,  rob,  and  murder  a  lone  traveler  outside 
of  the  settlements,  where  the  arm  of  the  law 
did  not  reach ;  and  where  the  lone,  wide  prai 
rie  told  no  tales. 


16  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

Now,  at  last,  after  four  months  of  anxious 
waiting  and  listening,  he  had  learned  some 
news.  But  it  was  not  the  cheering  news  he 
had  hoped  and  prayed  for.  That  brief  story 
told  by  Crooked  Horn,  if  it  referred  to  his 
father  and  his  partner,  was  the  worst  news 
possible.  He  tried  to  persuade  himself  that 
it  might  refer  to  some  other  trader,  perhaps 
to  a  Mexican,  who  had  been  on  his  way  to 
St.  Louis  where  these  men  bought  large  bills 
of  goods  every  year.  Perhaps  Crooked 
Horn's  story  was  not  true;  but  the  worried 
lad  could  not  believe  his  own  arguments. 
The  old  Indian's  story  rang  only  too  true, 
and  it  confirmed  only  too  well  the  fears  which 
had  slowly  crept  into  the  boy's  own  heart. 

If  Crooked  Horn's  story  was  true,  the  lad's 
father  was  either  dead  or  in  captivity,  and 
the  treasure  of  silver,  which  he  had  hoped  to 
bring  to  his  family  as  a  Christmas  present, 
had  been  squandered  by  the  savage  Pawnees 
or  was  cached  somewhere  on  the  prairie  along 
the  Arkansas  Eiver  to  be  drawn  upon  when 
ever  it  seemed  safe  to  the  savage  robbers. 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  17 

At  all  events,  a  great  calamity  had  fallen 
upon  them  all,  father,  mother,  and  their  two 
boys.  If  his  father  had  not  been  killed  at 
the  time  of  the  robbery,  he  might  have  died 
of  hardships  or  might  have  been  murdered 
since.  The  lad  knew  full  well  that  the  savage 
Plains  Indians,  at  this  time  still  at  the  height 
of  their  power  and  entirely  beyond  the  con 
trol  of  the  United  States  Government,  often 
killed  their  captives  in  fits  of  anger  at  trifling 
annoyances  or  in  order  to  conceal  their  guilt 
of  robbery  or  other  outrages. 

Even  if  his  father  were  still  alive,  they 
would  all  be  hopeless  beggars  with  hardly  the 
clothes  on  their  backs  to  call  their  own. 
Their  beautiful  farm  on  the  bluff  of  the  Mis 
souri,  to  which  they  were  all  so  much  at 
tached,  and  where  Philip  and  his  young 
brother  Ted  hunted  the  wild  honking  geese  in 
fall  and  spring,  they  would  lose;  for  old 
Satterly,  the  money-lender  at  Independence, 
would  surely  not  extend  the  mortgage.  He 
was  not  in  the  business  of  helping  poor  set 
tlers;  he  wanted  to  get  for  himself  as  much 


18  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

land  as  possible,  and  to  seize  it  on  mortgage 
foreclosure  was  the  cheapest  way  of  getting 
it. 

To  recover  the  treasure  of  which  his  father 
had  been  robbed  would  be  almost  hopeless. 
Who  were  the  robbers  1  Most  likely  a  small 
band  of  unknown  Pawnee  outlaws,  who 
roamed  like  wolves  over  the  boundless  plains 
north  of  the  Arkansas.  Where  was  the  treas 
ure?  Who  knew  of  its  hiding-place?  Prob 
ably  only  a  few  men.  Perhaps  only  one  man. 
Who  was  he?  Where  was  he?  He  might 
be  dead  by  this  time.  Indian  outlaws  led  a 
hazardous  life.  If  alive,  how  could  he  be 
found  and  made  to  tell,  and  forced  to  restore 
the  stolen  treasure?  It  all  seemed  utterly 
hopeless. 

These  were  the  thoughts  that  crowded  one 
another  in  the  lad's  mind,  as  he  rode  home 
ward  through  the  night. 

He  gave  his  pony  the  reins,  and  the  animal 
fell  into  an  easy  lope.  The  rider  did  not  see 
the  bright  starlit  sky  above  him,  he  did  not 
see  the  great  valley  below  him.  His  young 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  19 

soul  was  turned  upon  itself  and  he  wrestled 
with  the  great  trial  and  sorrow  that  had  sud 
denly  fallen  upon  him  with  a  crushing  weight. 

Philip  Benson  lived  with  his  mother  and  his 
younger  brother  Ted  on  a  farm  three  miles 
below  the  spot  where  the  road  from  the  boat- 
landing  passes  a  fine  spring  near  the  top  of 
the  bluff. 

This  point  is  really  the  beginning  of  the 
old  Santa  Fe  Trail,  as  it  led  in  those  early 
days  from  Independence,  Missouri  to  Santa 
Fe,  eight  hundred  miles  across  the  plains. 

"Mother,"  Philip  said,  as  with  a  flushed 
face  he  entered  the  log  cabin,  "Fm  afraid  I 
have  bad  news. 

"Crooked  Horn,  the  old  Shawnee,  just  told 
Jack  Langdon  that  four  months  ago  some 
Pawnees  robbed  two  white  men  on  the  trail 
at  Pawnee  Fork.  The  Indians  took  their 
wagon  and  four  mules  and  a  big  sack  of  silver. 
One  of  the  white  men  was  killed,  but  Crooked 
Horn  did  not  say  what  became  of  the  other 
white  man.  I  feel  sure  he  did  not  know  or 
he  would  have  told." 


20  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

"That  is  certainly  bad  news,"  assented  his 
mother.  "I  always  told  Father  he  took  too 
many  big  chances  on  the  trail,  but  you  men 
never  listen  to  what  a  woman  tells  you, ' '  and 
the  tears  came  to  her  eyes. 

"Now,  Mother,  don't  cry!"  piped  up  little 
Ted.  "The  Indians  can  never  get  Father. 
He  got  away  from  them  lots  of  times." 

"Yes,  boys,"  admitted  Mrs.  Benson,  "he 
did.  But  what  Phil  told  fits  in  too  well  with 
the  letter  Father  sent  us  with  one  of  the 
caravans  from  Santa  Fe. 

"He  said  he  expected  to  come  home  about 
Christmas  time  with  a  nice  bag  of  coin.  He 
and  his  partner  would  take  a  good  mule  team, 
they  would  take  enough  sugar  and  coffee  to 
give  a  treat  to  any  small  party  of  Indians, 
but  he  would  avoid  their  camps.  But  you 
cannot  tell  where  the  Indians  are  roaming 
around,  even  if  you  know  where  their  camps 
are,  and  you  can  never  tell  what  some  of  them 
will  do.  There  are  bad  Indians,  just  as  there 
are  bad  white  men.  What  can  we  do  now?" 


CHAPTER  II 

A   SMALL   BOY'S  LOGIC 

<4"W"F  we  could  only  obtain  reliable  news 
about  Father!"  said  Mrs.  Benson,  as 
JL  she  was  putting  the  supper  on  the 
table  for  her  boys.  "Why  couldn't  Uncle 
Jethro  join  one  of  the  trains  and  make  in 
quiries  along  the  trail?  The  blacksmith  at 
Council  Grove,  or  the  men  at  Bent's  Fort 
may  have  heard  who  the  two  men  were.  I 
think  Father  most  likely  stopped  at  Bent's 
Fort,  unless  he  came  by  the  Cimarron 
route." 

"Why,  Mother,"  Philip  objected,  "we 
might  as  well  send  Ted.  Uncle  Jethro 
doesn't  know  the  first  thing  about  the  trail 
and  about  Indians.  He  can't  even  ride  a 
horse.  He  is  always  sick  with  dyspepsia  and 

would  want  to  take  a  box  of  medicine  along. 

21 


22  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

Uncle  Jethro  would  never  get  farther  than 
Council  Grove,  and  that's  only  the  beginning 
of  the  real  Indian  country.  Beans  and  bacon 
and  bull-steak  would  make  him  sick;  he  can't 
sleep  on  the  ground,  because  he  has  the 
rheumatism  in  his  knee,  and  he  wouldn't 
want  to  stand  guard  at  night.  No,  Uncle 
Jethro  would  be  no  good  on  the  trail.  He'd 
turn  back  with  some  tenderfoot  at  Council 
Grove,  and  we  would  only  lose  that  much 
time." 

"I'll  go,"  Ted  spoke  up.  "I  don't  have 
any  'spepsia  in  my  stomach  and  I  can  sleep 
on  the  ground  and  stand  guard  at  night. 
I'm  not  afraid  in  the  dark.  I  looked  at  my 
catfish  line  after  dark  to-night.  Honest 
Injun,  I  did  Phil,  because  I  forgot  it  in  the 
afternoon.  I  can  ride,  too.  I  rode  Uncle 
Jethro 's  balky  mule  to — " 

"Oh,  keep  still,  Ted,"  the  older  boy  broke 
in,  "let  Mother  talk.  Babies  can't  go  on  the 
long  trail.  The  Indians  would  scalp  you  and 
eat  you  up." 

"You  call  me  Baby,  and  I'll  fight  you!" 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  23 

screamed  Ted.  " I'm  no  baby.  I  was  eleven 
last  month.  The  Indians  can't  scalp  me. 
Don't  you  see?"  and  he  drew  his  hand  over 
his  hair,  " Don't  you  see?  Uncle  Jethro  cut 
it  short,  so  I  wouldn't  have  to  comb  it." 

Although  Philip  was  very  fond  of  his 
younger  brother,  he  loved  to  tease  him.  Ted 
generally  remained  good-natured  and  had 
learned  to  defend  himself,  but  he  resented 
being  called  Baby. 

"Now,  boys,  stop  your  quarreling  and  eat 
your  supper,"  Mrs.  Benson  admonished. 
"This  is  no  time  for  quarreling." 

"I  sha'n't  let  him  call  me  a  baby,"  Ted 
replied,  "I  learned  all  my  letters  since  fall 
and  I  could  learn  Indians,  too ;  and  I  can  hit 
a  mark  at  fifty — " 

"Ted,  you're  a  noodlehead,"  Philip  broke 
in.  "Now  eat  your  supper  or  Mother  will 
send  you  to  bed.  You'd  be  scared  so  bad  at 
the  sight  of  a  real  wild  Indian  that  you'd  run 
and  holler  for  Mother  louder  than  a  b — " 

"You  call  me  Baby  again  and  I'll, — I'll 
hit  you  with  a  broom!"  shrieked  Ted,  now 


24  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

really  growing  angry  and  looking  around  for 
some  effective  weapon;  so  Mrs.  Benson  had 
to  threaten  him  with  an  early  bedtime,  while 
she  scolded  the  older  boy  for  intentionally 
making  the  little  fellow  angry. 

Any  one  seeing  the  two  brothers  at  supper 
might  have  thought  that  even  the  older  boy 
did  not  realize  how  serious  his  father's  case 
was,  if  the  story  of  Crooked  Horn  referred  to 
him.  In  reality  the  grave  temperament  of 
Philip  was  so  much  oppressed  by  the  bad  news 
that  he  fell  to  teasing  his  small  brother  as 
a  relief  from  his  own  anxiety. 

"Perhaps  you  might  go  with  Uncle 
Jethro,"  suggested  Mrs.  Benson  to  Philip, 
after  she  had  established  peace  between  her 
two  boys. 

'  '  Mother,  please  drop  the  thought  of  asking 
Uncle  Jeth  to  act  as  an  Indian  scout.  He'd 
be  worse  than  a  baby.  Ted  could  do  better 
than  Uncle  Jeth.  I  see  only  one  way  out 
of  it,"  he  continued  thoughtfully,  "I  must 
join  one  of  the  caravans  that  will  soon  start 
on  the  trail  to  Santa  Fe,  and  we  must  ask 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  25 

Uncle  Jeth  to  come  and  help  you  and  Ted  look 
after  our  stock  and  field." 

"No,  I  go  along,"  Ted  asserted,  his  face 
flushed  and  his  eyes  sparkling. 

"Ted,  you  keep  stiU  and  let  Mother  talk," 
the  older  brother  demanded  again. 

"I  am  afraid  Uncle  Jeth  is  not  much  of  a 
farmer,"  Mrs.  Benson  suggested,  ignoring 
Ted's  remark. 

"No,  he  isn't,"  the  young  irrepressible 
broke  in,  "he's  a  great  soap-box  orator.  I 
heard  Mr.  Langdon  say  so.  Uncle  Jeth 
knows  all  about  Texas  and  Mexico.  He  said 
Texas  and  Mexico  would  have  a  fight  and  then 
Uncle  Sam's  boys  ^ould  go  down  and  lick 
the  tar  out  of  both  of  them." 

"Ted,  if  you  don't  keep  still,  I'll  lock  you 
up  in  the  hen-house,"  Mrs.  Benson  threat 
ened.  "Don't  you  ever  repeat  any  of  Jack 
Langdon 's  nasty  talk  about  Uncle  Jethro.  I 
know  he  calls  Uncle  a  soap-box  orator,  but 
Uncle  knows  more  history  than  Jack  Langdon 
and  all  his  store  loafers  together  and  I  notice 
Jack  is  always  mighty  glad  to  have  Uncle 


26  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

come  in  and  liven  up  his  dirty  old  shack." 
"I  think,  Mother,  Uncle  will  stay  with  you, 
while  I  am  away,"  Philip  suggested.  "I 
shall  get  all  the  planting  and  seeding  done 
before  I  leave.;  No  Santa  Fe  train  will  start 
"before  the  first  of  May,  because  there  will 
not  be  enough  grass  on  the  prairie  before  that 
time.  All  you  have  to  do  is  to  see  that  Uncle 
cultivates  the  corn  and  potatoes  and  cuts 
some  hay,  and  doesn't  go  off  to  town  to  talk 
politics  except  on  rainy  days." 

"I  won't  stay  here  with  Uncle  Jeth,"  Ted 
blurted  out.  "He'll  want  me  to  learn  poems 
and  learn  to  read  the  papers  to  him.  He  says 
boys  shouldn't  kill  time  by  going  fishing,  they 
should  read  history  and  the  Bible.  I  want  to 
go  with  Philip  and  find  Father  and  the  sack 
of  silver." 

Ted  became  so  excited  in  his  arguments 
that  he  should  go  with  Philip  that  his  mother 
did  send  him  to  bed.  But  as  he  went  up 
stairs  crying,  he  asserted,  "If  you  don't  let 
me  go,  I'll  run  away  and  hide  in  one  of  the 
big  wagons  after  dark  and  then, — then  I'll, 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  27 

— I'll  ask  the  wagon  boss  to  let  me  herd  the 
cattle  at  night.  If  I  don't  come  along  Father 
will  say,  I'm  a  good-for-nothing  brat." 

Ted  soon  cried  himself  to  sleep,  while 
Philip  and  his  mother  discussed  still  further 
the  plan  of  securing  some  reliable  news  of 
their  father.  Both  came  to  the  conclusion 
that  some  serious  accident  or  misfortune 
must  have  befallen  him,  or  he  would  have 
been  home  by  this  time,  or  at  least,  gotten 
word  to  his  family  in  some  way. 

"It's  no  use,  Mother,"  Philip  explained, 
"to  wait  any  longer  and  it's  no  use  to  expect 
the  traders  to  bring  us  any  news.  They  all 
go  over  the  trail  as  fast  as  possible.  They 
have  all  they  can  do  to  look  after  their  own 
business  and  their  own  safety,  and  none  of 
them  can  come  back  till  fall.  I  can't  see  any 
other  way,  but  that  I  have  to  go  to  find  out 
what  I  can  and  do  what  I  can." 

Uncle  Jethro  was  willing  under  the  cir 
cumstances  to  look  after  his  brother's  farm 
and  family. 

"Guess  it's  up  to  me  to  look  after  your 


28  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

mother  and  the  place  now,"  he  admitted  to 
Philip.  "Your  father  was  always  strong 
for  risking  things.  Always  talked  Indians 
and  the  West  when  we  were  boys  in  Vermont. 
Fine,  daring  fellow  he  always  was.  Got  out 
of  many  a  scrape  with  the  Indians,  but  I  fear 
it  looks  bad  this  time.  That 's  the  way  it  goes 
in  life,  Phil.  'A  jug  goes  to  the  well  till  it 
breaks. ' 

"1*11  tidy  things  up  a  bit  around  here,  and 
then  I'll  move  over.  If  it  doesn't  rain,  I'll 
put  in  my  corn  and  potatoes,  and  perhaps 
Sunday  I'll  come  over;  I'll  bring  my  oxen 
and  my  pig.  I  guess  I  can  run  both  places, 
if  I  hustle  a  bit." 

Uncle  Jeth  was  as  good  as  his  word.  On 
the  following  Sunday  he  appeared  on  his  ox- 
wagon  with  his  pig  in  a  crate  behind  him. 

With  Ted,  Philip  and  his  mother  had  a  dis 
agreeable  time.  He  used  all  the  arts  which  a 
spoiled  child  knows  so  well  to  muster,  to  con 
vince  his  mother  that  he  should  go  with  his 
big  brother.  He  even  claimed  that  Phil 
would  not  be  safe  without  him. 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  29 

"You  can't  find  out  anything,"  he  argued 
with  Philip,  "if  you  stick  on  the  trail  with 
the  teams.  You  suppose  the  Comanches  and 
Pawnees  will  come  around  and  tell  you  all 
about  Father  and  his  silver.  You  bet  they 
won't.  Who  is  going  to  watch,  when  you're 
asleep?" 

"You  couldn't  stay  awake  in  a  thunder 
storm,"  Philip  replied  half  converted  to  the 
idea  that  perhaps  a  young  boy  would  not  be 
entirely  a  hindrance,  "and  you  don't  eat  beef. 
We'll  have  nothing  but  buffalo  beef  after  we 
strike  the  Arkansas." 

"Oh,  shucks,  Phil,"  cried  Ted,  "I'd  watch 
mighty  well,  'cause  I'd  be  too  scared  to  fall 
asleep.  And  you  know  I'd  eat  buffalo  meat 
or  anything.  Didn't  I  learn  to  eat  fish,  when 
Father  said  I  couldn't  go  fishing,  if  I  didn't 
eat  them! 

"And  I  don't  want  to  stay  with  Uncle 
Jeth,"  he  continued  after  a  short  silence. 
"I  don't  like  him.  He  talks  nasty  about 
Father.  He  says  Grandpa  spoiled  Father 
by  letting  him  go  fishing  and  hunting  in  Ver- 


30  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

mont.  That's  why  Father  didn't  like  to  stay 
on  the  farm.  I  told  Uncle  that  wasn't  so. 
Father  was  a  better  farmer  than  he  was.  He 
didn't  talk  so  much  about  Texas  and  Mexico 
and  the  black  slaves,  and  we  had  a  much 
better  house  and  barn  than  he  had. 

1 1  That 's  true,  Phil, ' '  he  declared.  '  '  Uncle 
got  mad  and  was  going  to  box  my  ears,  but 
he  couldn't  catch  me.  He  said  he  would  tell 
Mother  on  me,  but  I  guess  he  forgot.  I  bet 
he  and  Father  had  lots  of  fights,  and  I  bet 
Father  could  lick  him.  I'm  going  to  ask 
Father  as  soon  as  we  find  him." 

After  a  few  days  Philip  came  to  the  con 
clusion  that  it  would  be  best  to  take  his  small 
brother  along.  His  mother  would  have  a  bad 
time  between  pedantic  and  crabbed  Uncle 
Jethro  and  the  impulsive  small  boy.  More 
over,  the  small  lad  might  well  be  of  actual 
service  in  the  Indian  country,  where  two 
travelers  were  at  least  a  little  safer  than  one. 

The  pleading  and  the  arguments  of  both 
the  boys  Mrs.  Benson  could  not  resist,  and 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  31 

although  Uncle  Jethro  did  not  hesitate  to  say 
that  the  youngster  should  stay  at  home,  Mrs. 
Benson  reluctantly  consented  that  Ted  might 
go  with  his  big  brother  on  the  Santa  Fe  Trail. 


CHAPTER  III 

STRING   OUT! 

•W  IT   T'HEN  Ted  was  told  that  he  could 

V/X/    go  on  the  Santa  Fe  Trail  with 

his  brother,  he  was  the  happiest 

boy  on  the  Missouri  Eiver.    I  am  not  sure 

but  that  it  would  be  true  to  say  that  he  was 

the  happiest  boy  in  America. 

"Phil,"  he  said,  "I  can  drive  the  corn- 
marker  with  the  ponies;  you  can  put  in  the 
seeds." 

All  forenoon,  he  kept  the  ponies  going  at  a 
brisk  pace.  At  noon  he  fed  and  watered 
them,  and  scarcely  had  men  and  horses 
finished  their  noon  meal,  when  he  was  ready 
to  go  to  work  again. 

"Come  on,  Phil,"  he  urged,  "Pm  going  to 
hitch  up.  "We  can  finish  that  patch  to-day  if 
we  hustle." 

32 


THE  SILVER  CACHE  33 

Philip  smiled  when  his  small  brother  as 
sumed  the  airs  of  a  man. 

"I  have  a  better  plan  now,"  he  teased, 
"you  are  big  enough  to  run  the  farm,  we  don't 
need  Uncle  Jeth." 

"Oh,  nix,"  remonstrated  Ted  earnestly, 
"you  can't  go  back  on  your  bargain.  I  go 
along  on  the  trail.  Didn't  I  tell  you  I  wasn't 
a  baby  any  more.  Hop  to  it,  Phil,  get  your 
seed  corn,  or  I'll  get  far  ahead  of  you." 

Give  a  small  boy  a  real  motive  and  he  will 
work  like  a  man  with  an  inspiration. 

Ted  kept  it  up  day  after  day,  till  his  mother 
and  Uncle  Jethro  could  hardly  believe  their 
own  eyes.  But  mothers  and  old  men  rarely 
understand  boys.  They  do  not  know  the  in 
spiration  of  a  boy  motive,  they  do  not  know 
that  in  almost  every  boy  slumbers  the  spirit 
of  the  explorer  and  adventurer  awaiting  the 
magic  call  of  a  motive  for  exertion.  Blessed 
is  the  boy  whose  mother  is  not  over-civilized, 
and  whose  father  has  not  forgotten  his  own 
boyhood ! 

Ted  really  worked  like  a  man.     The  corn 


34  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

was  planted,  the  potatoes  were  put  in.  He 
helped  to  clean  out  the  barn,  he  dug  up  and 
planted  his  mother's  flower  garden.  He 
turned  the  grindstone  for  Philip,  so  that 
Uncle  Jethro  would  have  a  sharp  ax  and 
scythe. 

His  mother  began  to  feel  that  Ted  was 
working  too  hard,  but  Ted  said  he  wasn't, 
it  was  just  lots  of  fun. 

In  the  evening  he  did  crawl  into  his  bed 
soon  after  supper,  but  one  call  in  the  morn 
ing  brought  him  to  his  feet.  He  insisted  upon 
helping  Philip  with  the  chores  before  break 
fast,  so  that  even  Uncle  Jethro  could  not  help 
remarking : 

"By  Jinks,  Marian,  I  think  that  small  lad 
will  be  a  real  farmer  some  day,  if  he  doesn't 
turn  wild  in  the  Indian  country.  He  reminds 
me  of  his  father.  Silas  used  to  work  his 
head  off,  when  he  got  set  on  something.  I 
remember  one  summer,  how  he  built  a  duck- 
house  and  dug  out  a  swimming-pond  for 
them.  Father  had  promised  he  could  have 
all  the  ducks  he  could  raise.  The  old  man 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  35 

never  thought  the  youngster  would  take  him 
up  on  it;  he  was  about  Ted's  age  then.  But, 
by  Jinks,  he  did.  He  sold  thirty  fat  ducks 
in  Brattleboro  that  fall.  But  he  never  took 
the  money  home ;  blew  it  all  on  a  fiddle  and 
a  gun,  which  showed  that  he  wasn't  a  real 
born  farmer." 

Within  a  week  the  place  was  in  shape  to  be 
turned  over  to  Uncle  Jethro,  who  made  it 
plain  on  many  occasions  that  he  was  a  real 
farmer,  although  thus  far  he  had  done  noth 
ing  but  putter  around  the  yard  and  talk 
Texas,  Mexico,  Mormons,  and  slavery. 

"By  Jinks,  Marian,"  he  would  say,  "Texas 
is  going  to  come  to  us,  to  the  United  States ; 
they  will  never  go  back  to  the  Greasers. 
Then  it  won't  be  long  before  the  slaveholders 
have  the  majority  in  Congress  and  then 
there  '11  be  trouble. 

"Well,  Marian,  the  lads  have  put  the  place 
in  fair  shape,  that's  true,  but  if  I  were  you, 
I  wouldn't  let  them  go  after  Silas.  Silas  was 
always  pretty  good  at  getting  out  of  a  scrape. 
If  he's  alive  I  guess  he'll  come  home  some 


36  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

of  these  days.  By  Jinks,  Marian,  I  wouldn't 
let  the  lads  go  after  him." 

But  Mrs.  Benson  would  not  listen  to  this 
well-meant  advice. 

"No,  Uncle,"  she  replied,  "I  could  not  rest 
and  stay  quietly  at  home.  And  the  boys  feel 
just  as  I  do.  We  must  get  some  news,  even 
if  it  should  be  the  worst  news." 

It  was  now  the  last  week  in  April  and  the 
boys  were  ready  to  leave. 

"I  want  to  take  my  white  pony,"  Ted  had 
said  when  they  talked  over  what  animals  to 
take. 

"No,  you  can't!"  Philip  told  him  flatly. 
"An  Indian  can  see  a  white  pony  ten  miles 
off.  You'll  take  the  bay  or  the  black,  or 
you'll  foot  it.  A  white  horse  is  no  good  in 
the  Indian  country." 

Ted  was  convinced.  "All  right,"  he  re 
plied,  "I  take  the  black  and  well  leave  the 
white  for  Uncle  Jeth." 

"But  I  tell  you  what  you  ought  to  do, 
Phil,"  he  continued.  "You  ought  to  get 
Uncle  Jeth  to  cut  your  hair  real  short  like 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  37 

mine,  so  an  Indian  can't  take  hold  of  it." 

Everybody  laughed  at  Ted's  advice,  but 
Uncle  Jeth  took  his  side. 

"By  Jinks,  Phil,"  he  remarked,  "I'll  cut 
it  off  for  you.  You  can't  be  too  careful  with 
these  wild  critters." 

"Oh,  Uncle!  don't  talk  foolish,"  Phil 
laughed.  "I  don't  intend  to  let  any  Indian 
get  that  close  to  me." 

It  was  a  fine  spring  morning  when  the  lads 
started  on  their  long  and  dangerous  quest. 
From  the  young  foliage  on  the  Missouri  bluffs 
rang  the,  "Cheer,  cheer,  cheer,  cheer,"  of  the 
redbird  or  cardinal,  but  the  only  cheerful 
human  being  in  the  party  was  Ted,  too  young 
to  judge  the  danger  and  difficulty  of  their 
enterprise.  Mrs.  Benson's  face  only  cheered 
up  with  a  proud  smile,  when  Ted's  boyish 
voice  piped  out,  "All's  set!  We're  off  for 
Santa  Fe!" 

Behind  each  boy  a  large  pack  was  tied  to 
the  saddle.  It  contained  their  blankets  and 
the  usual  provisions  for  the  trail:  bacon, 
flour,  beans,  and  home-made  hominy.  To 


38  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

these  supplies  they  would  add  at  Independ 
ence  sugar  and  coffee.  Each  lad  carried,  of 
course,  rifle,  pistol,  and  hunting-knife. 

"We  should  have  seen  the  lads  off  to 
town/'  said  Uncle  Jethro,  breaking  the 
silence,  after  the  boys  had  waved  their  last 
farewell  and  had  disappeared  behind  a  clump 
of  trees. 

"Oh,  no,  no,"  answered  Mrs.  Benson  with 
tears  in  her  eyes,  "I  couldn't  make  a  scene 
for  the  whole  town.  If  I  had  gone  to  town 
with  them,  I  fear  I  should  have  lost  courage 
and  asked  them  to  return  home  with  me.  It's 
over  now,  but  I  shall  count  the  days  till  the 
boys  and  their  father  are  home  again. 

When  Ted  and  Philip  reached  the  spot 
where  the  road  comes  up  from  the  old  steam 
boat  landing,  they  dismounted  for  a  drink 
out  of  the  cool  spring  under  a  young  elm-tree. 

The  clear,  cool  spring  runs  out  of  the  gray 
rocks  to  this  day,  and  the  sapling  elm  has 
grown  into  a  fine  old  tree,  on  whose  spreading 
branches  the  oriole  hangs  his  nest. 

When  the  lads  had  quenched  their  thirst, 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  39 

Ted  poured  a  hatful  of  the  cold  water  over  his 
head  and  face. 

"What  are  you  doing  that  for?"  asked 
Philip.  " You  can't  be  hot ?" 

"  No,  I  >m  not  hot, ' '  admitted  Ted.  * <  But  I 
feel  like  bawling  and  riding  back  home." 

Just  then  a  steamer  whistled  about  half  a 
mile  below  at  the  landing. 

'  '  Get  your  horse, ' '  suggested  Philip.  '  *  Let 
us  ride  down  and  take  a  look  at  the  crowd." 

It  was  a  steamer  of  the  American  Fur 
Company  from  St.  Louis,  heavily  loaded  with 
all  kinds  of  goods  for  the  Indian  trade 
farther  up  the  river. 

A  number  of  families  got  off  with  a  motley 
supply  of  household  goods  destined  for  the 
frontier  of  Kansas  and  Missouri.  Bales  and 
boxes  were  being  unloaded  to  be  hauled  over 
land  nine  hundred  miles  to  Santa  Fe,  and  a 
drove  of  mules  and  oxen  were  pulled  and 
pushed  over  a  gangplank  with  many  strong 
expletives  of  their  owners  and  drivers. 

"What  is  in  all  these  big  boxes  marked 
Paint?"  asked  Ted  as  the  boys  walked  around 


40  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

on  board.  *  *  I  thought  the  Indians  made  their 
own  paint  out  of  mud  and  roots  f ' ' 

" Those  boxes, "  Philip  replied,  "I  guess 
aren't  filled  with  paint.  I  guess  each  has  a 
barrel  inside,  which  some  rascally  trader  is 
trying  to  sneak  past  the  army  officers  at  Fort 
Leavenworth.  I  hope  the  army  officers  will 
dump  the  stuff  into  the  river. ' ' 

At  Independence  Philip  had  no  trouble  in 
joining  one  of  the  caravans,  which  was  to 
start  within  a  few  days.  The  lads  being  will 
ing  to  do  any  kind  of  work  on  the  trail  and 
furnish  their  own  horses  and  supplies, 
the  boss  of  the  train,  or  wagon-master,  as  he 
was  called,  was  glad  to  add  two  armed  recruits 
to  his  force.  The  Indians  were  known  to  be 
restless  and  troublesome,  and  there  were 
never  too  many  men  to  serve  at  night  as 
guards  for  the  wagons  and  as  herders  for  the 
oxen  and  mules.  It  was  a  common  trick  of 
the  Indians  to  stampede  the  oxen  and  mules 
over  the  endless  wild  prairie,  where  it  was 
nearly  always  impossible  for  the  owners  to 
recover  them. 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  41 

On  a  fine  morning  early  in  May  the  train 
was  ready.  At  this  time  the  Santa  Fe  trade 
was  still  carried  on  by  men  of  comparatively 
limited  means.  Six  of  such  small  traders  had 
combined  for  the  train  which  Philip  and  Ted 
had  joined. 

A  captain  or  wagon-master  had  been 
chosen  to  have  control  over  the  whole  train, 
which  consisted  of  twenty-five  big  freight 
wagons,  often  called  prairie  schooners,  and 
one  mess- wagon. 

At  the  appointed  hour  the  call  rang  out, 
*  *  Catch  up,  catch  up ! "  which  meant  get  ready 
to  move.  The  drivers  yoked  up  their  oxen 
or  harnessed  their  mules.  There  was  much 
noise  and  confusion.  Each  wagon  was 
drawn  by  four  or  five  spans  of  mules,  or 
six  yokes  of  oxen.  The  animals  did  not  yet 
know  their  places,  so  there  was  much  confu 
sion  and  much  loud  mule-talk  and  ox-talk  on 
the  part  of  the  drivers,  each  of  whom  wanted 
to  be  the  first  to  cry  out,  "  All's  set ! " 

Some  of  the  animals  ,the  drivers  knew  had 
never  been  broken,  but  they  also  knew  that 


42  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

a  green  ox  or  mule,  once  lie  was  in  the  yoke 
or  harness,  soon  had  to  pull  as  the  other 
animals  did.  His  case  was  that  of  a  raw 
recruit  put  in  a  disciplined  regiment ;  he  can 
not  help  becoming  a  soldier  in  short  order. 

Half  an  hour  might  have  passed,  when  Jim 
Burley,  an  old  driver  and  packer  called  out, 
1 '  All 'a  set ! ' '  Burley  had  only  a  few  minutes 
the  start  of  the  next  man,  and  it  was  not  long 
before  the  last  driver  had  kicked  and  pulled 
and  pushed  and  cussed  the  last  obstreperous 
mule  into  position  and  harness. 

The  wagon-master  gave  a  few  last  direc 
tions,  looked  at  the  outfit  of  a  new  driver  and 
called,  " String  out!  String  out!"  and  with 
clanking  of  chains,  cracking  of  whips  and 
lusty  yells  in  both  English  and  Spanish  the 
train  strung  out  on  the  trail  across  the  great 
prairie. 

"Gosh,  it's  great  V9  was  all  Ted  could  say. 
"I'm  going  to  be  a  Santa  Fe  trader  like 
Father.  You  won't  catch  me  living  in  a 
homestead  shack  and  getting  crabby  like 
Uncle  Jeth." 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  43 

Philip  and  Ted  had  placed  their  bacon, 
beans,  and  other  eatables  on  the  general  mess- 
wagon,  while  their  blankets  and  extra  clothing 
were  on  the  schooner  of  Jim  Burley. 

The  two  lads  were  the  only  members  of  the 
train  on  horseback  and  the  men  dubbed  them 
at  once,  "The  pony  dragoons."  The  wagon- 
master;  Jim  Burley,  his  assistant;  one  extra 
man  and  the  night-herder  were  mounted  on 
mules.  The  drivers  walked  alongside  their 
animals.  Only  one  man  was  allowed  to  ride 
in  one  of  the  wagons,  that  was  the  night- 
herder.  As  he  had  to  watch  the  cattle  every 
night,  he  slept  in  a  wagon  during  the  day 
time. 

The  train  had  no  general  mess  cook.  The 
thirty-two  men  including  Ted  and  Philip 
divided  themselves  into  four  messes,  and  the 
man  who  was  most  handy  with  pans  and 
kettles  acted  as  cook.  He  was  relieved  of  all 
guard  duties  and  night-herding,  and  the  other 
men  had  to  furnish  him  with  wood  and  water. 

From  Independence  to  Council  Grove,  one 
hundred  and  fifty  miles  west,  the  trail  was 


44  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

well  marked  even  at  this  early  time  and  the 
camping-places  were  well  known.  They  were 
all  at  some  stream  or  spring,  where  wood 
and  water  could  be  had  and  where  the  grass 
was  good  for  cattle  and  mules. 

The  first  day  the  train  made  only  about 
ten  miles.  There  was  as  yet  no  danger  from 
hostile  Indians  and  only  the  night-herder  and 
his  helper  were  on  duty  during  the  night  to 
keep  the  stock  from  straying  away  or  from 
stampeding;  for  both  mules  and  cattle  as  well 
as  horses  will  at  times  take  fright  at  almost 
anything.  At  such  moments  their  wild  in 
stincts  gain  complete  control  of  them  and  they 
run  madly  from  some  imaginary  danger,  as 
their  ancestors  long  ago  ran  from  the  wild 
beasts  and  savage  men  that  hunted  them. 

"Everybody  lie  down  to-night, "  ordered 
Captain  Harley,  the  wagon-master,  who  was 
generally  referred  to  as  Doc  Harley  because 
he  knew  as  much  about  sick  mules  and  oxen 
as  the  regular  horse-doctor  at  Independence. 
"When  we  strike  the  wild  country  we'll  set 
guards." 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  45 

Philip  and  Ted,  who  were  still  under  the 
spell  of  the  novelty  of  the  whole  scene,  asked 
old  Shawnee  Pete,  the  night-herder,  if  they 
might  help  him  herd  the  stock  during  the 
night,  but  old  Pete  turned  them  off  gruffly. 

"Naw,"  he  said;  " don't  want  any  green 
kids  around  to-night.  You  youngsters  will 
get  your  hides  full  enough  of  night-herding 
after  we  strike  Indian  country.  Boll  up  in 
your  blankets  and  shut  yer  eyes!" 

"Gosh,"  remarked  Ted,  "he's  a  worse  crab 
than  Uncle  Jeth." 

"Oh,  he's  not  so  bad,  after  you  know  him," 
replied  Philip.  "I  guess  the  old  man  played 
cards  all  last  night,  and  is  not  in  good  humor 
now.  Let's  go  and  see  what  Jim  Burley  is 
doing." 

Jim  was  just  making  his  bed  outside  the 
wagon  corral.  It  was  a  very  simple  matter. 
He  had  just  folded  one  blanket  to  be  used  as 
a  pillow  and  was  rolling  himself  up  in  his 
buffalo  robe. 

"Put  your  saddles  on  the  ground,  boys," 
he  suggested,  "and  roll  up  in  your  blankets. 


46  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

Old  Doc  will  rouse  the  camp  before  daylight. ' ' 

The  boys  did  as  Jim  had  suggested,  using 
their  saddles  for  pillows;  after  they  had 
staked  their  horses  close  by. 

"Why  don't  you  let  the  beasts  run  with  the 
herd?"  asked  Jim. 

"No,"  protested  Philip,  "we  are  going  to 
keep  the  ponies  handy.  It  wouldn't  be  any 
fun  to  hoof  it  back  to  town  after  them ! ' ' 

Thus  ended  Ted's  and  Philip's  first  day 
with  the  Santa  Fe  train. 


CHAPTER  IV 

ON   THE   TBAIL 

TED  could  not  go  to  sleep  for  some 
time.  The  novel  scenes  and  the  ex 
citement  of  the  day  made  him  wake 
ful.  In  the  distance  he  could  hear  the  sound 
of  the  bell  attached  to  one  of  the  mules  for 
the  purpose  of  keeping  the  herd  together. 
From  time  to  time  one  of  the  ponies  would 
snort  and  Ted  imagined  that  he  faintly  heard 
an  Indian  creep  over  the  prairie,  and  he  could 
not  help  thinking  of  Philip's  carelessness  in 
going  on  the  trail  without  having  his  hair 
clipped.  He  tried  to  dismiss  these  thoughts, 
for  he  knew  that  the  train  was  still  more  than 
a  hundred  miles  from  the  region  of  any 
hostile  Indians.  The  night  was  growing 
quite  chilly,  and  from  a  distance  came  the 
long  weird  howl  of  coyotes,  which  always  fol 
lowed  the  trains  to  pick  up  any  scraps  of  food 
left  on  the  camp  sites. 

47 


48  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

But  the  little  fellow  was  getting  drowsy 
now,  and  to  avoid  the  chill  of  the  night  air 
on  his  face  and  bare  head,  he  crept  entirely 
under  the  buffalo  robe  and  snuggled  close  to 
his  big  brother,  who  seemed  to  be  sound 
asleep. 

At  dawn,  the  songs  of  the  meadow-larks 
and  the  deep  booming  of  prairie-chickens  an 
nounced  the  new  day.  Half-awake  Ted  put 
his  head  out  to  find  where  he  was,  but  the  raw 
morning  air  caused  him  to  crawl  back  under 
cover. 

Soon  the  call:  "Roll  out,  roll  out!"  rang 
through  the  camp. 

Both  lads  felt  stiff  from  sleeping  on  the 
hard  ground  to  which  they  were  not  accus 
tomed,  but  they  ran  down  to  the  creek, 
splashed  some  cold  water  over  their  faces, 
and  were  ready  for  their  first  breakfast  on 
the  trail. 

The  cooks  had  their  fires  going  by  this 
time,  and  hot  coffee  and  fragrant  bacon  soon 
put  everybody  in  good  cheer. 

However,  when  Shawnee  Pete  came  in  on 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  49 

his  mule  and  reported  that  several  mules  and 
six  of  the  oxen  were  lost  and  not  to  be  seen 
anywhere,  much  of  the'  good  cheer  vanished. 

This  was  news  not  at  all  welcome,  because 
it  meant  that  the  whole  train  would  be  de 
layed  till  the  lost  stock  was  found  and 
brought  in. 

' 1  Pete,  you  old  sleepy-head, "  Captain 
Harley  scolded  the  herder,  " there  you're 
again  with  your  tale  of  lost  stock.  You 
curled  up  again  in  your  blanket  and  let  the 
stock  herd  itself.  Consarn  your  old  hide, 
Pete,  if  the  Indians  don't  scalp  you,  I'll  have 
to  fire  you  yet!" 

Old  Pete  was  very  crestfallen  and  said  he 
would  go  right  after  the  stock  without  first 
eating  any  breakfast. 

"No,  you  won't."  Captain  Harley  told 
him.  '  *  Sit  down  and  get  some  hot  coffee  into 
yourself,  so  you  wake  up;  you're  still  half 
asleep.  It  would  take  you  and  your  lazy  old 
mule  all  day  to  bring  in  that  stock.  Let  the 
boys  go  after  the  beasts  on  their  ponies." 

"Yes,   Captain,   we'll  go,"   Ted   offered, 


50  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

quickly  finishing  the  last  bites  of  his  break 
fast. 

"  Father  taught  me  a  mighty  good  rule 
when  I  went  over  the  trail  with  him,"  Philip 
remarked  as  the  boys  rode  away  toward  the 
herd. 

"  'Look  after  your  stock  and  horses,'  he 
often  told  me.  'It's  easy  to  lose  them,  but 
often  hard  to  find  them  again.  Keep  your 
gun  loaded  and  keep  it  handy.  When  you 
want  it,  you  want  it  badly,  and  you  want  it 
quick.  Most  of  the  scrapes  and  difficulties 
men  get  into  on  the  trail  are  due  to  plain, 
rank  carelessness ! ' 

"  Where  do  you  suppose  those  lost  animals 
strayed?"  Ted  asked.  "I  don't  see  a  sign  of 
hoof  or  horn  anywhere." 

"We  will  ride  along  on  this  ridge  toward 
town  and  look  about  on  either  side." 

The  boys  had  traveled  about  two  miles, 
when  Philip  spied  some  dark  specks  on  the 
prairie  eastward. 

"Look,  Ted!"  he  pointed  out,  "there  go 
our  strays.  Stop  a  minute,  let's  see  whether 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  51 

they  are  moving.  Yes,  they  are;  they  are 
beating  it  straight  for  home." 

After  half  an  hour's  brisk  riding  the  boys 
had  overtaken  the  animals  and  turned  them 
back  on  the  trail. 

"If  old  Pete  was  any  good  as  a  herder/' 
remarked  Philip,  "he  would  have  been 
especially  careful  so  near  home.  After  the 
animals  get  used  to  each  other  and  are  far 
from  their  home  region,  they  are  not  so  likely 
to  leave  the  herd." 

There  was  joy  in  camp  when  the  lads  after 
an  absence  of  three  hours,  returned  with 
every  head  of  the  strayed  animals. 

"Good  work!"  was  Captain  Harley's 
greeting  to  the  boys.  "I'm  all-fired  glad 
you're  with  us. 

"Now,  Pete,  you  sleepy  old  Indian,"  he 
said,  turning  to  the  disgraced  herder,  "you 
crawl  into  your  blankets,  and  if  any  man  sees 
your  face  before  we  get  to  camp,  he'll  cut 
your  big  ears  off  with  the  blacksnake.  A 
fine  mess  you  would  get  us  into  in  the  Indian 
country  I" 


52  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

The  strayed  animals  were  quickly  yoked 
and  harnessed  and  again  the  caravan  strung 
out  on  the  trail. 

Captain  Barley  urged  his  men  to  travel 
according  to  the  rules  of  the  trail  observed 
by  all  cautious  traders. 

" Don't  string  out  too  far,"  he  told  them. 
"Not  more  than  a  mile  at  the  most.  If  you 
string  out  two,  three  miles,  the  Indians  can 
eat  you  up  one  by  one. 

"To-night  we  form  a  regular  corral. 
Teams  one  to  thirteen  form  a  half-circle  to 
the  left,  numbers  fourteen  to  twenty-six  form 
a  half -circle  to  the  right.  We  might  as  well 
get  used  to  it,  before  we  reach  the  dangerous 
country  around  Pawnee  Bock." 

When  the  train  reached  the  creek  where 
camp  was  to  be  made,  Captain  Harley  ordered 
the  wagons  to  cross  and  make  camp  on  the 
farther  side. 

"Why  don't  we  stay  on  this  side?"  asked 
Ted.  "There's  more  wood  on  this  side." 

"We  cross  over  now  for  two  reasons," 
Philip  explained.  "Crossing  a  creek  always 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  53 

means  a  hard  pull  and  cattle  don't  pull  well 
in  a  cold  yoke,  as  the  drivers  call  it ;  so  it  is 
always  easier  to  get  across  in  the  evening 
than  in  the  morning. 

"Another  reason  is  the  treacherous 
character  of  these  prairie  creeks.  You 
strike  one  in  the  afternoon  and  you  find  it  a 
sleepy  little  stream,  crawling  along  among 
cottonwoods  and  box-elders  with  scarcely 
enough  water  for  the  catfish  and  suckers  to 
hide  in.  You  wake  up  in  the  morning  and 
find  a  big  muddy  river  roaring  past  your 
camp.  There  was  a  thunderstorm  or  a  cloud 
burst  somewhere  up-stream  and  you  have  to 
sit  on  the  bank  and  wait  till  the  freshet  runs 
by,  which  may  delay  you  a  whole  day  or 
more." 

The  wagons  were  formed  into  a  circular 
corral  or  fort  as  Captain  Harley  had  ordered, 
with  two  openings,  where  the  right  and  left 
wings  met. 

If  an  alarm  was  sounded  the  cattle  and 
mules  could  be  driven  inside  of  this  corral, 
where  they  could  neither  be  stolen  nor 


54  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

stampeded;  while  from  behind  the  wagons  a 
few  well-armed  and  resolute  men  could  beat 
off  a  horde  of  savage  Indians,  who  in  those 
days  were  armed  only  with  bows,  arrows,  and 
spears,  and  poor  guns.  Even  if  they  had  a 
few  good  guns,  they  had  not  yet  learned  how 
to  use  them. 

"Now,  Pete,"  the  Captain  told  the  night- 
herder  after  supper,  "you  had  a  long  sleep 
to-day.  If  you  lose  any  more  stock  after 
this,  you  foot  it  back  home  to  hoe  potatoes. ' ' 

"I'll  keep  them  rounded  up,  Captain," 
Pete  promised,  as  he  mounted  his  mule  and 
rode  off  toward  the  herd  of  some  three  hun 
dred  and  thirty  head  that  were  scattered  over 
the  hills  west  of  the  creek,  where  the  young 
growth  was  coming  strong  and  green  through 
the  old  grass  of  last  year. 

"You  needn't  stand  guard,  boys,"  the  Cap 
tain  told  the  men,  "till  we  have  passed 
Council  Qrove.  I  guess  the  Beds  won't 
trouble  us  this  side  of  the  Grove.  But  you 
must  take  turns  helping  Pete  watch  the 
stock.  We  have  a  few  extra  head,  but  the 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  55 

critters  are  too  valuable;  and  I  wager  we'll 
need  them  all,  so  we  just  can't  afford  to  lose 
any." 

Next  morning  the  right  wing  of  the  corral 
pulled  out  first.  On  account  of  the  dust  it 
was  more  pleasant  traveling  in  the  first  sec 
tion,  and  for  that  reason  the  sections  changed 
places  daily,  but  the  teams  in  each  section  al 
ways  traveled  and  encamped  in  the  same  or 
der.  In  this  way  each  ox  and  mule  soon  knew 
and  found  his  place  in  the  line,  and  the  train 
was  spared  much  trouble  and  profanity  on 
the  part  of  the  drivers. 

When  the  train  arrived  at  Council  Grove 
it  was  the  middle  of  May.  The  trees  had 
leafed  out,  the  woods  were  alive  with  the 
birds  of  summer,  and  rich  young  grass  was 
abundant  everywhere. 

The  train  halted  a  day  at  this  place.  It 
was  the  last  place,  where  good  timber  was 
found,  and  a  supply  was  cut  to  be  in  readi 
ness  for  extra  poles,  fallows,  and  yokes  that 
might  be  needed. 

Old  Bill  Watson  who  ran  a  blacksmith  shop 


56  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

at  this  place  had  a  busy  and  profitable  day 
shoeing  mules  and  repairing  wagons. 

From  old  Watson  the  lads  learned  the  first 
bit  of  interesting  news. 

It  verified  the  story  of  Crooked  Horn. 
Two  men  had  been  robbed  by  some  Pawnees. 
One  of  the  men  had  been  killed,  the  other  had 
escaped.  But  this  man  was  captured  by  a 
party  of  Comanches,  who  fell  upon  the 
Pawnees  while  they  were  committing  the 
murder  and  robbery. 

The  attack  had  happened  at  Pawnee  Fork 
a  few  days  before  Christmas.  There  was  not 
more  than  half  a  dozen  Pawnees  in  the  war 
party.  The  two  white  men  were  each  about 
forty  years  old,  and  were  traveling  in  a  light 
wagon  drawn  by  four  large  mules. 

This  was  all  the  blacksmith  knew.  Several 
Pawnees  had  been  in  his  shop  and  store  since 
that  time.  They  claimed  not  to  know  the 
young  men  that  had  committed  the  outrage. 
No  Indians  had  shown  any  money  in  his  place, 
nor  had  they  worn  or  shown  any  ornaments 
hammered  out  of  silver  or  gold  coins. 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  57 

Philip  came  away  from  the  honest  old 
blacksmith  in  very  serious  thoughts. 

"It  was  Father  and  his  partner,  all  right," 
he  assured  Ted.  "The  story  tallies  too  well 
with  Father's  plans  and  ways.  We  can't  do 
anything  else  now  but  go  on  with  the  train 
and  keep  our  eyes  and  ears  open.  We  may 
fall  in  with  some  friendly  Indians  who  can 
give  us  some  more  definite  news." 


CHAPTER  V 

OXEN  AND   MULES 

THE  train  bad  now  been  on  tbe  trail 
about  ten  days,  and  tbe  boys  bad 
been    away   from   borne    about    two 
weeks,  although  the  time  seemed  much  longer 
to  them. 

The  heavily  laden  wagons,  carrying  from 
two  to  three  tons  each,  could  not  average 
more  than  ten  or  fifteen  miles  a  day.  The 
caravan  did  not,  however,  attempt  to  make  a 
certain  distance  daily,  but  the  length  of  its 
day's  journey  depended  on  the  location  of 
suitable  camping-grounds. 

It  was  impossible  to  carry  grain  or  hay  for 
the  animals  of  which  Captain  Harley's  train 
had  about  three  hundred  and  thirty  head. 
All  these  animals  had  to  depend  on  grass, 
and  for  this  reason  the  camps  could  be  made 

58 


THE  SILVER  CACHE  59 

only  at  places  where  grass  and  water  were 
plentiful. 

It  took  the  lads,  especially  Ted,  some  time 
to  become  used  to  the  routine  of  the  train. 
At  daylight,  the  herder  and  his  helper  brought 
in  the  cattle,  which  were  at  once  yoked  to  the 
heavy  wagons.  Then  the  train  started  and 
traveled  until  about  ten  or  eleven  o'clock,  or 
until  a  good  camping-place  was  found.  Here 
the  men  had  their  breakfast. 

The  wagons  were  drawn  up  in  a  corral, 
while  the  animals,  in  charge  of  the  herder 
and  his  assistant,  were  turned  out  to  water 
and  to  graze  and  rest  till  about  three 
o  'clock. 

In  the  afternoon  the  train  kept  going  till 
the  next  good  camping-ground  was  reached, 
which  was  sometimes  early  and  sometimes 
late  in  the  evening.  In  this  way  the  cool 
hours  of  morning  and  evening  were  used  for 
traveling. 

When  supper  was  ready,  the  men  did  not 
have  to  be  urged  to  eat,  for  daily  journeys  in 
the  keen  air  of  the  prairie  created  an  appetite 


60  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

which  people  who  spend  their  lives  in  houses 
and  offices  do  not  know.  When  the  meadow- 
larks  ceased  singing  most  of  the  men  were 
asleep  in  their  blankets  and  under  their  buf 
falo  robes,  for  the  prairie  air  made  them 
sound  sleepers  as  well  as  hearty  eaters,  and 
the  nights  were  always  too  short. 

By  the  time  the  stars  had  lit  their  twin 
kling  lights  above  the  endless  prairie,  a  deep 
silence  had  fallen  upon  the  camp,  made  only 
more  impressive  by  the  heavy  snoring  of 
some  tired  sleepers,  the  muffled  tread  of  the 
guard,  the  faint  sound  of  a  cowbell  from  the 
herd;  and  the  wailing,  melancholy  howls  of 
the  coyotes. 

Before  the  train  left  Council  Grove,  Cap 
tain  Harley  had  urged  his  men  to  be  on  their 
guard  against  hostile  Indians. 

"Dont  string  out  too  far,"  he  told  them. 
1  '  Have  your  guns  loaded  and  keep  them  on 
the  outside  of  the  wagons,  and  don't  stroll 
far  away  from  camp,  if  you  want  to  keep 
your  scalps  on." 

Jim  Burley  who  had  grown  fond  of  Philip 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  61 

and  Ted,  also  warned  the  boys  of  the  dangers 
of  the  country  they  were  now  entering. 

"You  have  to  cut  out,  boys,"  he  cautioned, 
4 '  riding  ahead  of  the  train,  or  straggling  be 
hind,  or  chasing  after  jack-rabbits. 

" Don't  think  there  are  no  Indians  about 
because  you  don't  see  any.  An  Indian  can 
hide  in  anything  that  makes  cover  for  a  prai 
rie-chicken.  Old  Doc  swears  he  once  saw  an 
Indian  come  out  of  a  badger-hole.  So  look 
out  for  your  hair,  boys,  till  we  get  back  to 
Council  Grove." 

"They  can't  get  mine,"  Ted  protested. 
"It's  too  short." 

"Better  not  let  them  try  it,  kid,"  Jim 
laughed.  '  '  Some  murderous  buck  would  have 
it  yanked  off  before  he'd  noticed  how  short 
it  is.  And  I  tell  you,  kid,  your  light  bristles 
are  growing  pretty  fast.  You  fellows  had 
better  stick  to  the  train,  I  tell  you." 

When  the  train  reached  the  camp  known  as 
Last  Spring,  about  forty  miles  west  of  Coun 
cil  Grove,  they  saw  the  first  buffalo,  and  three 
young  men  brought  in  a  fat  young  bull  for 


62  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

supper.  A  small  herd  of  buffaloes  was  seen 
at  a  distance  of  about  two  miles  from  camp, 
but  Captain  Harley  would  not  allow  the  men 
to  go  after  them. 

"You  do  your  hunting  close  to  camp/'  he 
told  them.  "Where  the  buffaloes  are  the 
Redskins  are  likely  to  prowl  about,  and  be 
tween  here  and  the  mountains  we  can  easily 
get  plenty  of  buffaloes  close  to  the  trail.7' 

After  two  more  days  of  travel,  the  car 
avan  reached  the  Little  Arkansas  and  here  the 
lads  saw  the  wisdom  of  Captain  Harley  in 
having  chosen  as  many  oxen  as  he  could  get 
for  draft  animals.  The  stream  had  been 
swollen  by  a  freshet  and  a  great  deal  of  mud 
and  quicksand  had  been  deposited  at  the 
crossing. 

"Cut  a  lot  of  brush  and  dump  it  in  here," 
Captain  Harley  told  the  men.  "I  guess  we 
can  make  it  then. ' ' 

The  ox-teams  crossed  the  treacherous  ford 
without  much  difficulty.  The  big  strong  an 
imals  sniffed  and  smelled  the  ground  as  if 
to  pick  out  the  best  footing.  If  any  of  them 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  63 

sank  through  the  brush,  they  did  not  become 
excited  or  lie  down,  but  just  walked  ahead 
and  pulled,  and  as  long  as  chains  and  yokes 
did  not  break,  the  heavy  wagons  had  to  come 
after  them. 

But  when  the  first  mule  team  tried  to  cross 
there  was  trouble.  The  animals  were  so  ex 
cited  that  the  driver  lost  control  over  them. 
Some  of  the  animals  missed  the  ford,  and  be 
came  mired,  and,  although  they  made  frantic 
efforts,  they  were  unable  to  pull  their  feet 
out  of  the  sticky  mud,  and  half  a  dozen  of 
them  came  down  in  a  heap.  The  heavy  wagon 
slid  down  almost  on  top  of  them  and  only  came 
to  a  stop  the  very  moment  when  everybody 
thought  it  was  going  to  topple  over  into  the 
creek. 

The  driver  looked  at  the  confusion  in  help 
less  despair. 

"Look  at  the  mess!"  exclaimed  Captain 
Harley.  "I  never  believed  in  these  con- 
sarned  mules.  They  are  no  good  except  on 
a  dry  road.  Give  me  a  sensible  ox  any 
time. 


64  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

"Bill,"  he  then  turned  to  the  driver,  "just 
unhitch  that  mess. 

"Here,  Jack  and  Shorty,"  he  called  to  two 
other  drivers.  "Bring  your  cattle  and  pull 
these  long-eared  idiots  out!" 

"Gosh,"  exclaimed  Ted  breathless  with  ex 
citement,  as  the  steady  oxen  literally  snaked 
the  mass  of  helpless  mules  out  of  the  mud, 
"gosh,  Phil !  I  don't  want  to  be  a  Santa  Fe 
trader,  I  'm  going  to  be  a  wagon-boss  like  Doc 
Harley.  Look,  Phil!  Didn't  you  think  the 
mules  were  all  dead.  They  aren't,  they  are 
getting  up." 

Much  to  the  surprise  of  the  boys,  not  one 
of  the  mules  was  seriously  hurt,  and  as  soon 
as  they  were  relieved  of  their  harnesses,  they 
rolled  themselves  on  the  ground  and  went  off 
to  graze  as  if  nothing  unusual  had  happened 
to  them. 

The  captain  now  turned  his  attention  to  the 
mired  wagon. 

"Here,  men,"  he  called  to  half  a  dozen 
drivers,  "get  some  poles  and  hold  that  wagon 
up,  while  we  are  getting  it  started. 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  65 

"Bill  and  Shorty,  hitch  your  cattle  to  it. 
I  'm  done  with  mules  at  this  crossing. ' ' 

It  took  Bill  and  Shorty  but  a  few  minutes 
to  obey  the  order.  The  oxen  also  seemed  to 
know  what  was  expected  of  them.  Without 
excitement  some  yokes  took  their  places  in 
the  creek,  while  the  others  stood  quietly  on  the 
bank  until  all  was  ready  and  the  drivers 
called:  "Get  up,  boys,  get  up!"  Then 
quietly  and  slowly  all  leaned  their  shoulders 
against  the  yokes,  and  the  big  wagon  righted 
itself  and  came  up  the  bank  as  if  it  had  been 
a  child's  toy  cart. 

"Well  done,  boys!"  the  wagon-boss  called 
out,  and  Philip  and  Ted  were  not  sure 
whether  he  referred  to  the  drivers  or  the 
oxen. 

"Now  get  the  other  mule-wagons,  too,"  he 
told  Bill  and  Shorty.  "There'll  be  no  more 
mules  in  any  train  of  mine. ' ' 

The  caravan  was  now  within  a  few  days' 
journey  of  the  Great  Bend  of  the  Arkansas. 
This  river  like  the  Missouri  and  the  Platte 
is  one  of  the  great  prairie  streams  of  North 


66  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

America.  The  water  of  all  three  of  these 
rivers  makes  the  long  journey  from  the  high 
ranges  and  peaks  of  the  Rocky  Mountains 
to  the  Mississippi.  All  three  cross  the  Great 
Plains,  which  less  than  fifty  years  ago  fur 
nished  the  wild  pasture  for  vast  herds  of 
buffaloes  and  where  the  hunting-grounds  of 
the  most  powerful,  warlike  Indian  tribes. 

The  greatest  and  most  dangerous  battle 
grounds  of  the  Indian  country  lay  now  right 
ahead  of  the  train.  In  the  region  between 
and  around  the  present  towns  of  Great  Bend 
and  Lamed,  both  on  the  Arkansas  River  in 
the  state  of  Kansas,  no  Indians  ever  dared 
to  make  a  permanent  camp.  The  country 
was  the  battle-ground  of  many  of  the  Plains 
Tribes ;  Pawnees,  Kiowas,  Comanches,  Arap- 
ahoes,  Cheyennes.  In  the  days  of  the  Santa 
Fe  Trail  every  wagon-master  and  every 
stage-driver  was  thankful  when  he  had  safely 
passed  the  camping-places  at  Walnut  Creek, 
Pawnee  Rock,  Ash  Creek,  and  Pawnee  Fork. 

The  men  in  Captain  Harley's  train  saw 
their  first  Plains  Indian  one  afternoon  late 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  67 

in  May,  when  they  were  within  a  few  miles 
of  Walnut  Creek.  He  was  over  a  mile  away 
and  seemed  to  be  riding  toward  a  large  herd 
of  buffaloes  that  could  be  seen  grazing  farther 
west. 

Some  of  the  new  men  claimed  the  figure 
seen  was  not  an  Indian,  but  an  elk  with  a  big 
pair  of  antlers. 

"One  lone  Indian/'  claimed  Fatty  Jarvis, 
the  leanest  and  in  his  own  opinion  the  wisest 
man  in  the  crowd,  "wouldn't  be  hunting 
buffaloes.  There  would  be  a  bunch  of  them. ' ' 

"Fatty,  if  you  want  to  sell  your  hair  cheap, 
go  and  look  for  that  elk, ' '  Burley  challenged 
Jarvis.  "It  was  an  Indian,  I  tell  you.  And 
he  wasn't  alone  either  I'll  wager;  there's  a 
hundred  of  them  behind  the  ridge,  may  be  a 
thousand. 

"Fatty,  before  we  get  over  this  fight  stretch 
to  the  Cimarron  Crossing,  you'll  learn  a 
whole  lot  more  about  Indians." 

That  night  Captain  Hurley  ordered  three 
men  to  herd  the  stock  and  placed  two  men  on 
guard  duty  in  the  camp. 


CHAPTER  VI 

ALARM   AND   STAMPEDE 

IT  was  Philip's  and  Jim  Burley's  turn  to 
stand  guard  from^ten  to  twelve  at  the 
Walnut  Creek  Camp. 

"I'm  going  to  stand  guard  with  you  and 
Jim,"  Ted  declared  when  after  supper  the 
two  brothers  went  to  the  creek  to  see  if  there 
was  a  good  catfish  hole  near  the  crossing. 

"You  had  better  not,"  Philip  tried  to  per 
suade  him.  "Two  guards  are  enough,  and 
there  are  plenty  of  men  to  take  turns  at  it. 
You  had  better  roll  in." 

"No,  I  am  going  to  stand  guard  with  you. 
You  and  Jim  said  I  could  in  the  Indian  Coun 
try.  I'm  not  going  to  tell  Mother  that  I 
played  the  baby  and  never  did  anything  on 
the  whole  trip." 

"Aren't  you  helping  me  to  drive  the  loose 
stock  and  round  up  the  stray  animals  in  the 
morning?"  Philip  asked. 


THE  SILVER  CACHE  69 

"Oh,  yes,  I  do,  but  that's  nothing.  Any 
body  could  do  it;  there's  no  danger  in  it." 

When  ten  o'clock  came  Ted  took  his  gun 
and  began  to  walk  slowly  back  and  forth  on 
his  beat,  which  was  just  outside  the  corral 
facing  the  valley  of  the  Arkansas,  where  the 
stock  was  grazing.  A  few  rods  off  the  two 
ponies,  Blackie  and  Kio  were  staked,  far 
enough  away  so  that  they  could  not  reach  the 
wagons,  and  far  enough  apart  so  that  they 
could  not  tangle  each  other. 

Ted  had  never  felt  quite  so  big  and  im 
portant  in  all  his  life.  Catching  his  first  fish 
and  bringing  home  his  first  jack-rabbit  was 
nothing  compared  with  doing  real  sentinel 
duty,  standing  guard  with  a  real  loaded  gun 
against  real  Indians.  He  felt  sure  that  Jim 
was  right  about  the  Indian  seen  in  the  after 
noon  and  that  there  were  hundreds  of  them 
in  hiding  not  far  from  camp. 

The  night  was  warm,  but  spooky,  with  the 
crescent  of  the  moon  hiding  behind  banks  of 
clouds  in  the  southwest.  From  time  to  time 
he  met  Philip  or  Jim,  and  he  felt  sure  that 


70  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

he  could  by  ear  tell  their  walk  from  the  foot 
steps  of  an  Indian.  As  he  continued  to  peer 
and  listen  into  the  darkness,  his  eyes  and  ears 
seemed  to  grow  keener  as  the  darkness  in 
creased.  Puffs  of  wind  sprang  up.  He 
heard  the  sound  first  in  the  trees  on  the  creek 
and  was  surprised  that  a  little  wind  could 
make  such  a  big  noise.  The  wind  and  the 
increasing  cloudiness  would  make  it  harder  to 
hear  or  see  approaching  Indians. 

When  he  met  Philip  the  next  time,  he  asked 
what  time  it  was.  "  About  half -past  ten," 
answered  Philip,  and  strolled  off. 

"Gosh,"  said  Ted.  "I  thought  it  was  al 
most  twelve  o'clock."  Perhaps  Philip  was 
teasing  him  again. 

He  was  tempted  to  tell  Philip  that  he 
guessed  he  would  roll  in.  There  weren't 
any  Indians  around  camp,  anyway.  They 
wouldn't  steal  mules  or  bother  a  camp,  when 
they  could  hunt  buffaloes. 

No,  it  would  never  do  to  quit  before  his 
time  was  up.  He  would  never  hear  the  last 
of  that  all  his  life.  He  must  stick  it  out. 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  71 

That  gun  was  getting  awfully  heavy. 
What  was  the  use  of  trotting  back  and  forth 
all  the  time?  No  need  of  it.  He  might  as 
well  sit  down  against  a  wagon  where  he 
could  watch  just  as  well. 

Little  Ted  had  his  eyes  and  ears  set  for  the 
stealthy  approach  of  Pawnees  and  Coman- 
ches,  but  he  did  not  know  how  softly  and 
silently  a  friendly  old  god  from  Mount  Olym 
pus,  conqueror  and  consoler  of  tired  men,  can 
creep  upon  his  victims. 

Both  Burley  and  Philip  soon  discovered 
why  their  enthusiastic  fellow-sentry,  Ted, 
had  stopped  walking  his  beat  like  a  soldier. 
They  planned  to  cure  him  in  this  way  of  his 
desire  for  guard  duty.  They  would  let  him 
sleep  until  it  was  time  to  be  relieved.  They 
would  not  give  him  away,  but  they  would 
make  him  promise  that  he  would  not  pester 
them  again  about  standing  guard  or  doing 
anything  else  at  those  hours  of  the  night, 
when  a  youngster  of  his  age  ought  to  be  in 
his  blankets. 

A  shower  had  threatened,  but  it  was  now 


72  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

passing  north  of  the  camp,  while  below  the 
clouds  the  moon  was  again  visible  and  re 
lieved  somewhat  the  uncanny  darkness  that 
had  prevailed. 

Suddenly  there  came  the  loud  boom  of  a 
gun,  immediately  followed  by  a  screaming  yell 
from  Ted's  high-pitched  voice.  Philip  and 
Burley  ran  to  the  wagon  where  they  had  left 
him  scarcely  ten  minutes  ago. 

"I, — I  shot  at  an  Indian,"  the  lad  gasped. 
"He — he — was  a  big  fellow.  He  w-was  com 
ing  at  me  with  his  hatchet." 

"Where  is  he?"  asked  Burley.  "Did  you 
drop  him?" 

"I, — I  don't  know.  I  think  he  ran.  I 
guess  I  missed  him." 

By  this  time  the  whole  camp  was  awake  and 
in  commotion. 

"Where's  my  gun?"  came  from  half  a 
dozen  men. 

"Confound  you,  Shorty,  drop  my  gun  right 
there.  Take  your  own  old  blunderbuss ! ' '  one 
crusty  driver  called  out  to  another. 


WHY  TED  HAD   STOPPED  WALKING  HIS  BEAT  LIKE  A  SOLDIER. 
Page  71. 


OP  THE  PAWNEE  73 

" What's  the  row  about,  boys?"  asked  Cap 
tain  Harley.  "Did  you  see  Indians?" 

Burley  told  what  had  happened,  but  did 
not  mention  that  they  had  seen  the  young 
guardsman  leaning  against  a  wheel  and  sound 
asleep. 

Ted  told  again  how  he  had  fired  at  a  big 
Indian,  who  was  coming  straight  for  him  with 
a  tomahawk. 

"I  guess  you're  mistaken,  sonny,"  the  Cap 
tain  chuckled.  "The  ponies  would  not  be 
grazing  so  quietly  if  there  were  any  Indians 
prowling  about." 

The  men  remained  at  their  posts  for  a 
little  while,  but  none  could  hear  or  see  any 
thing  suspicious,  except  that  the  howls  of  the 
big  gray  wolves  were  mixed  with  the  wails  of 
the  coyotes. 

"It's  a  false  alarm,  men,"  the  wagon  mas 
ter  finally  decided.  "All  go  back  to  bed,  but 
it's  time  for  the  midnight  relief. 

"Don't  dream  about  any  more  Indians,"  he 
added  quietly  aside  to  Ted. 


74  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

However,  he  instructed  the  men  to  watch 
with  great  care  and  said  that  he  would  stay 
up  a  while,  too. 

' '  When  you  hear  the  big  wolves, ' '  t  e  added, 
"the  buffaloes  are  not  far  away,  and  where 
you  meet  buffaloes,  you  are  likely  to  run  into 
Indians.  Wolves,  buffaloes,  and  Indians 
form  a  sort  of  wild  plains  trinity. 

The  men  all  went  back  to  bed,  and  their 
snoring  soon  showed  how  little  their  nerves 
had  been  affected  by  the  real  or  imaginary 
danger.  Most  of  them  had  taken  the  inter 
ruption  of  their  rest  good-naturedly,  only  a 
few  grouchy  ones  had  grumbled  about  the 
idea  of  putting  a  fool  kid  on  guard  duty.  An 
hour,  and  almost  another  hour  passed  without 
anything  disturbing  the  peace  of  the  corral. 

It  was  almost  two  o'clock  when  one  of  the 
guards  heard  a  rumbling  like  distant  thunder 
north  of  the  camp.  He  called  the  attention 
of  the  other  guard  to  it,  who  also  heard  it 
plainly,  and  the  sound  seemed  to  be  growing 
louder  and  coming  nearer,  while  they  were 
listening. 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  75 

The  men  called  the  wagon-master,  who  was 
on  his  feet  at  once  and  listened. 

<  '  Buffalo  stampede ! ' '  he  called  out.  * '  Get 
up,  men!  They  are  coming  right  upon  us 
from  the  north,  thousands  of  them.  Get  your 
ponies  inside,  boys ! 

"Men  of  the  first  section  run  out  to  the 
west  side  of  the  camp.  Fire  at  the  beasts, 
yell  at  them  to  turn  them  west. 

"Six  men  run  over  to  the  herd.  Keep 
them  together.  If  they  get  mixed  with  the 
buffaloes,  we'll  never  see  them  again.  The 
rest  of  you  guard  the  camp ! ' ' 

The  previous  false  alarm  had  been  a  good 
thing  for  the  camp  in  showing  up  every  man 
who  was  not  ready.  At  this  call  every  man 
was  ready  and  acted  quickly. 

Ted  and  Philip  were  the  first  to  reach  the 
herd  and  being  mounted,  they  could  quickly 
ride  around  the  herd  and  help  much  to  hold 
them  together,  while  the  stampeding  buffa 
loes  thundered  past  them  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
to  the  west.  But  in  spite  of  the  efforts  of 
the  night-herders  and  of  the  boys,  a  few  of 


76  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

% 

the  extra  mules  and  oxen  broke  away  to  join 

the  mad  stampede  of  the  buffaloes. 

When  the  noise  of  the  thundering,  bellow 
ing  wild  herd  had  died  away,  Captain  Harley 
ordered  all  the  stock  to  be  brought  inside  the 
corral. 

"I  have  a  suspicion, "  he  told  the  men, 
"  these  buffaloes  did  not  stampede  of  their 
own  accord.  Some  Indians  started  them  to 
stampede  our  mules  and  oxen.  In  a  fine  fix 
we  would  be  if  we  had  lost  our  stock." 

Once  inside  the  corral  the  animals  soon 
became  quiet  and  many  of  the  oxen  lay  down 
and  quietly  chewed  the  cud. 

Half  a  dozen  men  were  detailed  for  guard 
duty,  the  others  rolled  up  in  their  blankets, 
for  there  was  still  more  than  an  hour  of  dark 
ness. 

When  daylight  broke,  not  a  buffalo  was 
seen  anywhere,  nor  was  there  a  sign  or  trace 
of  Indians  near  the  camp. 

11  Confound  those  red  rogues, "  commented 
Burley,  "if  it  wasn't  for  the  buffalo  meat  the 
men  are  bringing  in,  I  would  say  the  whole 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  77 

camp  had  had  a  bad  case  of  nightmare.  You 
don't  see  a  sign  of  Indians  around,  but  I  feel 
sure  that  they  drove  the  buffaloes  straight  for 
our  camp  herd." 

It  was  decided  to  remain  a  day  at  Walnut 
Creek  to  give  time  for  curing  the  buffalo 
meat,  which  had,  so  to  speak,  stampeded  into 
camp  and  was  much  needed. 

When  the  stock  was  turned  out  again  soon 
after  daylight,  Ted  noticed  some  blood  on  his 
pony's  neck. 

"Look  here,  Mr.  Burley,"  he  called  to  his 
friend,  "what  is  the  matter  with  my  pony?" 

The  experienced  plainsman  looked  a  min 
ute  at  the  animal.  "That  pony,"  he  replied 
in  a  low  voice  but  with  a  twinkle  in  his  eye. 
"That  pony  had  a  blasted  close  run  from 
a  wild  Indian  last  night.  The  bullet  took  a 
nip  out  of  his  ear.  Do  you  see  this?"  and 
he  pointed  to  a  nick  in  the  pony's  left  ear. 

"You  want  to  be  a  little  careful,  Sonny, 
shooting  from  the  saddle.  He  may  be  a  little 
gun-shy  for  a  while,  till  he  sort  of  forgets  the 
close  call  he  had  last  night." 


78  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

Ted  knew  what  Burley  meant  and  who  the 
Indian  was  that  had  fired  at  his  pony. 

The  wagon-master  ordered  four  men  to 
herd  the  cattle  close  to  the  corral.  "At  the 
first  sign  of  danger  you  bring  them  in/'  he 
impressed  upon  the  men.  '  '  We  must  not  lose 
any  more  animals." 

Then  he  called  Burley  and  Philip  aside  and 
told  them  the  real  reason  why  he  wished  to 
stay  a  whole  day  in  camp. 

"I  want  you  two  and  three  other  men  to 
ride  a  few  miles  along  the  ridges  on  either 
side  of  the  Walnut  Creek  and  scout  for  Indian 
signs.  But  keep  away  from  the  timber  and 
the  brush.  After  you  have  done  that,  ride  a 
few  miles  along  the  trail  toward  Pawnee 
Bock,  our  next  camp.  Be  careful  and  keep 
together.  Jim,  you  take  charge  and  pick  the 
men  you  want  and  slip  away  kind  of  quietly. 
You  can  take  Ted  along,  if  you  want  to.  He 
seems  to  be  able  to  stick  in  the  saddle  pretty 
well." 

"Do  you  want  us  to  knock  over  any  buf 
faloes,  if  we  see  any?"  asked  Philip. 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  79 

"No,  don't  go  near  them.  We  have  meat 
enough  for  a  week  or  more.  Hunting  is  too 
dangerous  around  here.  If  I  hear  you  shoot 
ing,  I  shall  know  you  are  in  a  scrap  with  In 
dians.  I  feel  that  they  are  lurking  around  us 
somewhere. 

"Now  be  careful  that  you  don't  ride  into 
a  trap." 

"Aren't  we  going  to  look  for  our  lost 
stock?"  asked  Philip. 

"No,  sir,"  the  captain  told  him.  "The 
critters  are  miles  away  by  this  time  and  it 
would  be  impossible  to  find  them  in  the  buf 
falo  herds.  Let  them  go.  The  Pawnees  or 
Comanches  will  get  them  some  day. ' ' 


CHAPTER  VII 

CATCHING   AN    ARROW 

BLJBLEY  and  his  men  slipped  out  of 
camp  as  quietly  as  possible.  The 
hunters  brought  in  loads  of  fresh 
meat,  and  the  men  in  camp  dried  and  smoked 
it  on  frames  of  poles  over  a  slow  fire.  To 
dry  and  cure  meat  as  the  Indian  often  did 
on  the  dry  plains  by  simply  exposing  it  to 
the  sun  and  the  air  would  have  taken  too  much 
time. 

Burley's  scouting  party  rode  cautiously 
along  the  north  side  of  Walnut  Creek,  then 
crossed  over  and  doubled  back  to  camp  on 
the  south  side.  They  saw  no  big  game  ex 
cept  a  small  herd  of  antelopes,  on  which  Ted 
and  Philip  wanted  very  much  to  try  the  speed 
of  their  ponies,  but  Burley  would  not  listen 
to  their  pleas  that  old  Doc  had  not  forbidden 
them  to  hunt  antelopes. 

'  '  No,  lads,  it  won 't  do,  ' '  he  decided.    '  '  Doc 

80 


THE  SILVER  CACHE  81 

meant  that  we  should  not  hunt,  so  you  don't. 
If  anything  happened  to  you,  I  should  always 
blame  myself  for  it." 

The  party  scared  up  a  jack-rabbit,  who  ran 
over  the  nearest  ridge  in  long  leisurely 
bounds.  A  prairie-hen  arose  with  a  great 
whirr  of  wings  from  a  nest  containing  twenty 
eggs.  Finding  that  the  eggs  were  fresh,  Ted 
quickly  gathered  them  in,  except  one. 

* '  Hens  can 't  count, ' '  he  said.  *  *  If  we  leave 
her  one,  she  will  lay  some  more.  The  men  of 
our  mess  will  sure  like  some  fresh  eggs  for 
supper." 

When  they  crossed  the  creek  they  saw  a 
big  wild  turkey  on  a  tree  and  Ted  wanted 
very  much  to  bring  it  down,  but  Burley  said : 
" Nothing  doing,  Sonny,  you  aren't  at  home 
with  your  mother.  No  hunting  means  no 
shooting." 

"May  I  go  and  look  for  his  nest?"  asked 
Ted. 

"You  may,"  Burley  grunted,  "if  you  want 
to  risk  losing  your  hair. ' '  So  Ted  contented 
himself  with  turning  around  in  the  saddle  and 


82  THE  SILVEE  CACHE 

watching  the  turkey  as  long  as  he  could  see 
him. 

On  their  way  back  they  saw  neither  Indians 
nor  game,  but  a  few  black  buzzards,  hanging 
on  motionless  wings,  were  sailing  westward, 
while  a  pair  of  large  birds,  which  Burley  said 
were  ravens,  were  also  slowly  flapping  west 
ward  in  the  direction  of  Pawnee  Eock. 

"Well,  boys,  what  did  you  see?"  Captain 
Harley  asked  when  the  scouts  entered  camp. 

"Not  a  thing,  Captain,"  Ted  blurted  out, 
"except  a  rabbit,  a  prairie-chicken,  and  a 
turkey.  We've  got  the  eggs  of  the  chicken. 
Yes,  and  some  antelopes." 

The  men  smiled  at  Ted's  unconscious  for 
wardness,  but  said  nothing. 

"We  saw  some  turkey-buzzards  and  a  pair 
of  ravens,"  Burley  added.  "They  were  fly 
ing  toward  Pawnee  Eock." 

"Well,"  mused  the  old  man,  "I  don't  know 
what  to  think  of  it.  You  saw  buzzards  and 
ravens,  which  means  Indians.  The  buffaloes 
are  moving  north  now.  When  they  get  scared 
they  stampede  back  on  their  trails.  I  feel 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  83 

that  some  Indians  stampeded  them  last  night, 
but  it's  sort  of  queer  that  you  saw  no  smoke 
or  sign  of  them. 

"I  tell  you  what  you  do,"  he  continued 
after  a  moment 's  silence.  '  '  You  ride  down  to 
the  herders  and  tell  them  to  water  the  stock 
and  then  herd  them  back  to  the  corral,  they 
are  getting  too  far  away. 

"Then  scout  along  the  trail,  but  do  not  go 
farther  than  Three-Mile  Eidge.  Jim,  you 
know  the  place  I  mean,  the  little  ridge  with 
the  stone  grave  to  the  north  of  the  trail.  If 
you  see  or  jump  any  Indians  come  back  to 
camp  as  quick  as  you  can,  and  look  out  that 
you  don't  get  cut  off. 

"Tell  the  herders  to  hurry  back  with  the 
cattle.  There  is  plenty  of  good  grass  near 
camp;  they  don't  need  to  stray  away  off  in 
the  river  bottom. ' ' 

The  scouts,  after  delivering  the  captain's 
orders  to  the  herders,  cautiously  followed  the 
trail  westward. 

When  they  came  close  to  the  low  ridge,  Bur- 
ley  stopped. 


84  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

"Look,  men,"  he  asked,  "isn't  that  smoke 
away  off  to  the  southwest  over  the  Arkansas 
bottom  !" 

The  men  soon  made  out  a  thin  column  of 
smoke  rising  high  in  the  still  air. 

"Confound  them,"  muttered  Burley. 
"It's  a  Pawnee  or  Comanche  camp,  but  the 
smoke  is  not  from  their  camp-fires.  It  is  a 
signal  smoke.  I  don't  know  what  it  means, 
but  most  likely  it  tells  that  a  train  of  wagons 
is  coming  west. 

"Let  us  scout  up  to  the  ridge;  I'll  ride 
ahead." 

When  Burley  reached  the  ridge,  he  mo 
tioned  to  the  men  to  come  on.  They  were 
all  halting  in  a  group  and  watching  the  dis 
tant  signal  smoke,  when  suddenly  a  gun 
cracked  in  the  tall  dead  grass  to  their  left, 
while  an  arrow  whizzed  out  from  behind  the 
stone  grave. 

"Turn  back,"  ordered  Burley.  "Look  to 
your  right,  men,  they  are  trying  to  cut  us 
off." 

Half  a  dozen  mounted  Indians  came  racing 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  85 

from  behind  some  bushes  in  the  Arkansas 
River  bottom. 

But  the  ponies  of  the  Indians  had  evidently 
not  yet  recovered  from  their  winter  diet  of 
cottonwood  bark,  and  were  not  equal  in  speed 
to  the  ponies  and  mules  of  the  scouts. 

'  *  Stop  and  give  them  a  shot,  lads, ' '  Burley 
ordered,  when  he  saw  that  the  Indians  could 
not  cut  them  off  from  camp. 

Ted  and  Philip  lost  no  time  obeying  the 
order.  One  of  the  Indians  ducked  as  if  he 
heard  a  bullet  sing  overhead.  Apparently 
none  of  them  were  hit,  but  they  stopped  fol 
lowing  the  scouts  and  soon  disappeared  be 
hind  the  willow  bushes  in  the  river  bottom. 

"Was  anybody  hurt?"  asked  Burley. 
"Look,  you  don't  always  feel  it  when  you 
are  excited." 

Nobody  was  wounded,  but  an  arrow  was 
found  sticking  in  Ted's  saddle. 

"  I  '11  keep  that  and  show  it  to  Father.  May 
I,  Mr.  Burley?"  Ted  asked. 

"Of  course,  you  may,"  Burley  replied. 
"Well,  boys,"  he  continued,  "that  was  close 


86  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

enough.  If  we  had  been  careless  they  would 
have  scalped  us  all. ' ' 

Ted  instinctively  felt  for  his  scalp. 
"Gosh,"  he  whispered  to  Philip,  "my  hair  is 
surely  growing  fast." 

Philip  took  his  excited  brother  aside. 

"Look  here,  Ted,"  he  warned  him,  "when 
we  get  back  to  camp  don't  you  start  in  again 
to  do  the  talking.  It's  Burley's  business  to 
talk.  You  keep  mum.  Just  remember  you 
aren't  the  cock  of  the  walk  here  as  with 
Mother  at  home." 

Ted  blushed,  but  he  felt  that  Philip  was 
right  and  that  he  had  been  pretty  fresh  at 
home  with  his  mother  and  Uncle  Jethro. 

There  was  excitement  in  camp  when  the 
scouts  told  what  had  happened. 

Several  men  wanted  Ted's  arrow,  but  Bur- 
ley  cut  short  their  requests  by  saying : 

"The  kid  caught  it  and  it's  his.  Don't 
pester  him  for  it.  If  you  fellows  will  just 
hike  out  to  the  ridge,  you  can  catch  one  your 
selves.  The  Pawnee  buck  is  still  waiting  for 
you  behind  the  stone  grave. ' 9 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  87 

"Yes,  let's  do  that,"  came  from  several 
voices.  "I'll  go,  I  will.  Can  we  go,  Doc?" 

"Close  up  men,  close  up!"  the  captain  re 
plied.  "Go  back  to  your  buffalo  beef.  I 
warrant  you'll  all  see  plenty  of  Indians  and 
arrows  before  you  get  back  to  chew  the  rag  in 
old  Jack's  store." 

"I'll  bet  the  kid  was  all-blasted  scared," 
remarked  a  rough  driver  who  went  by  the 
title  of  Mex,  because  he  used  to  tell  great 
stories  about  his  life  in  Mexico.  Mex  did 
not  like  Ted,  and  had  several  times  threatened 
that  some  day  he  would  take  the  conceit  out 
of  that  fresh  little  kid. 

This  time  Burley  came  to  Ted's  rescue. 
"Maybe  he  was  scared,"  Burley  admitted. 
"I'm  sorry  you  weren't  there,  Mex.  You 
could  have  shown  us  how  to  scare  the  whole 
bunch  by  yelling  and  making  faces  at  them  as 
you  did  in  Chihuahua. 

"For  a  while  I  was  pretty  well  scared  my 
self,"  he  continued.  "I  was  afraid  the  ras 
cals  would  cut  us  off." 

"The  stock  goes  inside  the  corral  to-night," 


88  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

Captain  Harley  ordered  after  supper.  "All 
of  it,  your  ponies,  too,  boys. 

"  Smith  and  Mex,  before  you  go  off  duty  at 
midnight  you  call  me.  I  feel  sure  the  country 
is  full  of  Indians,  and  they  are  trying  their 
best  to  take  us  at  a  disadvantage. 

"  Those  two  fellows  on  the  ridge  must  have 
been  a  couple  of  young  bucks,  for  the  wise 
old  warriors  would  never  have  betrayed  their 
presence  till  the  men  had  passed  them." 

Nothing  occurred  to  disturb  the  quiet  of 
the  camp  during  the  evening.  On  the  prairie 
the  meadow-larks  whistled  as  they  do  on  the 
Kansas  fields  to-day,  and  in  the  trees  on 
Walnut  Creek  the  brown  thrush  with  its  burst 
of  varied  melody  seemed  trying  to  drown  the 
more  modest  tunes  of  robin  and  catbird. 

The  early  prairie  flowers  dotted  the  plain 
with  purple  and  lavender;  and  for  gopher, 
woodchuck,  and  badger  the  season  of  humble 
work  and  play  was  once  more  in  full  swing, 
after  a  long  winter  sleep  in  their  prairie 
dugouts. 

On  days  of  travel  the  men  were  generally 


OP  THE  PAWNEE  89 

so  tired  that  there  was  little  inclination  for 
sociability,  but  on  this  evening  they  lingered 
at  the  mess-fires  chatting  and  smoking,  while 
the  sun  disappeared  in  a  flood  of  gold  and 
crimson. 

Although  the  men  did  not  doubt  the  pres 
ence  of  Indians  in  the  region,  none  of  them 
expected  a  night  attack  and  most  of  them 
were  inclined  to  make  light  of  the  fighting 
qualities  of  the  Red  Men. 

Until  midnight  there  were  no  signs  or 
sounds  about  the  camp  which  would  have 
disturbed  an  old  plainsman.  True,  the  camp 
was  not  as  quiet  as  when  the  stock  was  away. 
Oxen  and  mules  grunted  as  they  lay  down. 
Now  a  mule  snorted  or  an  ox  emitted  a  short 
bellow  as  he  was  pushed  or  gored  by  an  ill- 
tempered  fellow-bovine.  The  herd  had  had 
all  day  to  fill  up  on  grass  and  water,  so  that 
all  but  a  few  restless  beasts  were  quite  con 
tent  to  lie  down  for  the  night.  None  of  these 
sounds,  however,  disturbed  the  sleep  of  the 
men ;  as  long  as  the  beasts  did  not  start  bray 
ing  or  trumpeting  they  might  grunt  and  snort 


90  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

all  they  wanted.  Nerves,  as  city  people  know 
them,  the  old  plainsmen  had  none. 

After  midnight  some  of  the  men  did  wake 
up  from  the  violent  barking  of  Old  Doc's 
dog. 

Eomp  was  a  long-legge£  brindled  mongrel 
not  well  liked  in  camp,  because  he  showed  no 
affection  for  anybody  but  his  master. 

"I'd  like  to  pisen  that  cur,"  muttered  Mex. 
"What's  Doc  got  the  brute  for?" 

Eomp  was  not  afraid  of  the  prowling  coy 
otes.  If  they  came  too  close  to  camp  he  drove 
them  to  a  respectful  distance.  If  possible 
he  hated  the  gray  wolves  still  more  than  he 
hated  the  coyotes;  but  he  had  enough  dog 
sense  to  know  that  the  gray  wolf  of  the  plains 
is  the  master  of  all  canines,  so  he  contented 
himself  with  barking  violently  at  them  when 
they  prowled  near  camp.  At  such  times  he 
would  run  to  his  master  with  all  the  signs  of 
urgently  requesting  his  assistance. 

"Oh,  why  don't  you  come  and  shoot  him?" 
he  seemed  to  be  trying  to  say.  "Come 
along  now!  I  can't  bear  to  have  him 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  91 

around !"  And  away  he  would  rush  again. 
But  when  the  wolf  turned  and  clacked  his 
terrible  fangs,  Romp  always  remembered  that 
he  was  only  a  dog. 

Several  times  that  night  Captain  Harley 
was  tempted  to  go  to  the  aid  of  Romp,  who 
pleaded  more  urgently  than  ever.  It  seemed 
that  the  two  wolves,  who  prowled  about  camp 
to-night  had  roused  all  the  anger  a  dog's 
soul  could  hold.  However,  a  gunshot  would 
arouse  the  whole  camp,  and  the  Captain  did 
not  wish  to  be  responsible  for  a  false  alarm. 

At  daylight  he  went  to  look  at  the  wolf- 
tracks,  but  the  beasts  had  not  made  as  much 
as  a  toe-mark. 

"Eomp,"  he  called,  "they  didn't  fool  you 
last  night,  but  they  fooled  me.  Drat  their 
souls,  if  those  wolves  weren't  Indians  rattling 
buffalo  bones  at  you!" 


CHAPTER 

THE   HAUNT   OF   EVIL   SPIRITS 

IN  the  morning  there  was  a  kind  of  in 
formal  council  of  war.  The  question 
which  Captain  Harley  put  to  Burley  and 
a  few  good  men  was:  Should  they  go  on 
or  wait  a  few  days  longer  at  this  camp? 

"The  Indians  are  out  for  mischief,  that  is 
sure,'*  he  told  the  men.  "They  may  tackle 
us  here,  they  may  try  us  out  on  the  trail,  or 
they  may  fall  upon  us  at  Pawnee  Eock.  They 
are  around  us,  that's  sure." 

"Yes,  they  come  and  go  like  the  coyotes/' 
commented  Burley.  "They  may  decide  that 
we  are  the  wrong  kind  of  a  bunch  for  them 
and  melt  away.  I'm  for  moving  on,  Captain. 
We  knpw  as  much  now  as  we  shall  know  to 
morrow." 

Half  an  hour  later  the  train  moved  out. 
The  brush  of  the  scouting  party  with  the  In- 

92 


THE  SILVER  CACHE  93 

dians  on  Three-Mile  Ridge,  and  the  knowledge 
that  two  Indian  scouts  in  wolf-skins  had  hov 
ered  around  their  camp  for  a  good  part  of 
the  night,  put  every  man  on  the  alert.  All 
felt  sure  that  the  Indians,  whoever  they  might 
be,  Pawnees,  Comanches,  or  Cheyennes  knew 
exactly  the  strength  and  the  habits  of  the 
train. 

The  white  men  on  the  other  hand  did  not 
know  whether  there  was  a  large  Indian  camp 
farther  up  the  Arkansas  or  whether  those 
they  had  seen  belonged  to  a  small  band  of 
marauders. 

Harley  himself  and  Burley  rode  ahead  of 
the  train  and  saw  to  it  that  the  wagons  stayed 
so  close  together  that  they  could  form  a  corral 
in  a  few  minutes.  The  men  all  carried  their 
rifles  on  the  outside  of  the  wagons,  and  many 
of  them  carried  a  loaded  pistol  in  the  belt 
besides,  Philip  and  Ted  with  Kansas  Joe, 
the  extra  man,  brought  up  the  rear  of  the 
train. 

The  wagon-master  had  feared  that  some 
ambushed  Indians  would  attempt  to  stampede 


94  LTHE  SILVER  CACHE 

the  cattle  if  they  were  driven  for  water  to  the 
creek  or  the  river. 

' '  Those  two  fellows  who  fooled  me  last 
night  with  their  rattles,"  he  told  Burley, 
"were  not  the  only  ones  around.  The  rest  of 
the  bunch,  I  feel  sure,  are  hiding  in  the  brush 
on  Walnut  Creek  or  on  the  Arkansas.  So 
we  '11  just  fool  them  and  not  take  the  cattle  to 
water  this  morning.  We  have  had  plenty  of 
rain  lately  and  I  think  we  shall  find  enough 
water  in  holes  and  buffalo-wallows  between 
here  and  Pawnee  Bock." 

In  this  expectation  he  was  not  disappointed. 
Late  April  and  May  is  the  rainy  season  on 
that  part  of  the  Great  Plains,  when  shallow 
depressions  and  buffalo-wallows  are  filled 
yntld  water,  while  later  in  the  season  in  July 
and  August,  the  traveler  would  not  find  a 
drop,  except  in  the  Arkansas  Eiver  and  in 
the  larger  creeks,  and  he  might  even  have  to 
dig  for  it  in  such  streams  as  Sand  Creek  and 
the  Cimarron. 

Bit  this  time  of  the  year  the  buffalo  calves 
are  born.  The  new  grass  begins  to  grow  and 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  95 

the  buffaloes  used  to  start  on  their  northward 
journey,  which  extended  as  far  north  as  the 
Peace  Eiver  Valley  in  Canada. 

Tbe(jfcw  mej)  in  the  train  were  again  dis 
appointed  in  their  hope  of  having  a  brush 
with  the  Indians.  Not  a  sign  of  them  was 
seen.  The  train  wound  along  slowly  and 
Ted  had  plenty  of  time  to  ask  Kansas  Joe 
about  the  buffalo-wallows  and  the  so-called 
fairy  rings  seen  everywhere  along  the  train. 

"The  buffalo-wallows,  I  think,"  Joe  said, 
"the  big  beasts  made  themselves.  In  the 
rainy  season  they  paw  and  roll  in  the  water 
and  the  mud  and  carry  some  of  the  mud  away. 
In  the  dry  season  they  also  paw  up  the  ground 
and  roll  in  the  dust.  Then  the  wind  blows  the 
dust  away  and  the  wallow  is  made  a  little 
deeper  and  larger  every  year." 

"Doesn't  the  wind  blow  some  of  the  dust 
into  the  wallows?"  asked  Ted. 

"Well,  yes,  it  might  do  that,"  admitted 
Joe.  '  '  But  not  as  much  as  it  blows  out.  And 
the  buffaloes  also  carry  some  of  the  dust  away 
in  their  shaggy  hair." 


96  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

Ted  could  not  see  how  the  buffaloes  made 
the  fairy  rings,  which  looked  like  small  round 
race  tracks. 

' '  They  are  made, ' '  Joe  told  him, ' t  in  spring, 
when  the  calves  are  born.  The  wolves  are 
always  trying  to  get  the  very  young  calves 
and  their  mothers,  before  the  calves  are  old 
enough  to  travel  along  with  the  herd.  Then 
several  bulls  walk  around  the  cow  and  her 
little  brown  calf  day  and  night,  until  the 
calf  is  strong  enough  to  go  along  with  the 
herd.  If  it  wasn't  for  that,  the  wolves  would 
soon  kill  off  all  the  buffaloes  in  the  country. ' ' 

On  some  of  the  mesas  of  the  Bad  Lands  and 
in  other  undisturbed  prairie  lands  of  the  west, 
the  old  buffalo-wallows  and  fairy  rings  may 
be  seen  to  this  day,  where  the  wild  cattle 
trampled  them  out  half  a  century  or  more 
ago.  But  they  are  overgrown  with  grass 
like  the  right-of-way  of  abandoned  railroads. 
The  grass  is  generally  of  a  coarser  and 
greener  kind  than  the  short  buffalo  grasses 
of  the  plains. 

The  train  reached  the  camp  site  at  Pawnee 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  97 

Bock  in  good  time.  Pawnee  Eock  was  a  bold 
cliff  of  red  sandstone,  which  rose  some  fif 
teen  or  twenty  feet  above  the  plain,  and  was, 
so  to  speak,  the  abrupt  ending  of  a  long  ridge. 
The  trail  passed  between  the  rock  and  the 
Arkansas,  whose  valley  at  this  place  is  about 
two  miles  wide. 

The  trains  generally  took  their  stock  down 
the  Arkansas  for  water,  but  as  the  stock  in 
Harley's  train  had  had  plenty  of  water  in 
the  afternoon  and  there  were  plenty  of  water- 
holes  on  the  prairie,  the  Captain  told  the 
herders  to  let  the  animals  graze  close  to  the 
corral  and  not  take  them  down  to  the  river. 

The  cooks  had  brought  a  supply  of  wood 
and  water  from  Walnut  Creek,  so  there  was 
no  need  for  anybody  to  stray  far  from  camp. 

"I  suppose,"  said  the  Captain  after  supper, 
"that  we  have  to  leave  the  critters  out  over 
night.  They  haven't  had  any  food  since  mid 
night,  and  if  we  corral  them  again,  they  will 
be  bellowing  and  milling  around  and  keep  us 
all  awake.  I  don't  like  to  leave  them  out 
because  I  think  I  smell  Indians. ' ' 


98  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

"Phil,"  asked  Ted  when  the  two  boys  were 
alone,  "do  you  believe  that  Old  Doc  can  really 
smell  Indians?" 

"I  don't  suppose  he  can,"  answered  Philip 
with  a  laugh.  "I  suppose  he  meant  that  he 
sort  of  felt  in  his  bones  that  there  were  In 
dians  around." 

About  two  in  the  morning  the  wagon- 
master  arose  and  asked  the  boys  and  Burley 
to  ride  with  him  to  the  herd. 

"The  Old  Man  has  got  something  on  his 
mind,"  whispered  Burley  to  Philip,  "but  I 
don 't  think  we  '11  have  any  trouble.  The  Beds 
have  just  got  on  the  Old  Man's  nerves." 

Things  went  on  quietly.  The  cattle  were 
slowly  herded  back  and  turned  toward  the 
opening  of  the  corral.  Here  and  there  the 
coyotes  howled  as  usual,  but  the  big  gray 
wolves  seemed  to  have  disappeared. 

It  was  some  time  after  three  o'clock,  when 
suddenly  a  horde  of  Indians  seemed  to  spring 
out  of  the  ground  yelling  like  maniacs  and 
shaking  blankets  and  robes  in  an  attempt  to 
stampede  the  stock  toward  the  river. 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  99 

"Bush  them  to  the  corral !"  shouted  Harley 
as  he  fired  his  gun  at  the  nearest  Indian. 

The  men  from  the  camp  came  running  out, 
spreading  out  on  either  side  of  the  herd. 
One  Indian  who  had  gotten  between  the  herd 
and  the  corral  was  shot  down,  while  the  stock 
broke  with  a  mad  rush  not  for  the  river,  but 
straight  into  the  corral. 

The  whole  thing  was  over  in  five  minutes, 
and  the  Indians  had  disappeared  as  quickly 
as  they  had  come. 

"Are  we  all  here?"  asked  the  Captain  as 
soon  as  the  men  got  back  to  the  corral.  All 
had  returned. 

"Now,"  the  Captain  ordered,  "take  your 
places;  they  may  tackle  us  again." 

In  about  half  an  hour  when  it  was  just 
light  enough  to  see,  horsemen  came  swarming 
up  from  the  river.  There  seemed  to  be  at 
least  a  hundred  of  them. 

"They're  coming!"  the  men  called  to  one 
another.  ' '  A  thousand  of  them ! ' ' 

"Keep  your  fire,  men,"  Harley  called  out, 
"till  I  give  the  word." 


100  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

On  the  Indians  came,  waving  blankets  and 
yelling  like  demons. 

< '  Let  'em  yell, '  '  muttered  Harley.  '  '  We  '11 
make  'em  howl  if  they  come  close  enough!" 

The  Indians  as  was  their  custom  began  to 
ride  around  the  corral,  coming  a  little  closer 
all  the  time.  The  men  could  see  now  that 
most  of  them  carried  bows  and  arrows,  but  a 
few  had  guns.  Pretty  soon  they  began  to 
shoot  their  arrows  and  fire  their  guns  into 
the  corral,  and  the  men  were  becoming  im 
patient  to  reply.  But  the  Captain  called: 
"Wait  a  bit,  boys,  wait  a  bit,  and  take  good 
aim!" 

The  next  time  they  came  around  Harley 
called: 

"First  squad,  blaze  away!" 

A  dozen  guns  cracked  almost  at  once. 
Three  men  fell  off  their  ponies,  while  several 
horses  reared  and  plunged  as  if  they  had 
been  hard  hit.  The  Indians  quickly  picked 
up  their  fallen  comrades  and  rode  off  toward 
the  river. 

"They  will  not  come  back,"  predicted  Bur- 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  101 

ley,  "  unless  they  have  a  big  camp  near  by. 
This  bunch  got  enough  bad  medicine." 

"What  were  they?77  asked  the  boys. 

"Pawnees,  to  judge  from  their  trappings 
and  y  ells. " 

Two  of  the  men  had  been  slightly  wounded 
and  several  of  the  cattle  and  mules  had  ar 
rows  sticking  in  their  skins. 

After  this  skirmish  none  of  the  new  men 
made  fun  of  Barley's  caution,  for  they  all 
realized  that  with  a  careless  or  inexperienced 
leader  they  would  have  lost  their  stock  and 
goods  and  probably  their  lives. 

When  the  first  red  rays  of  the  sun  fell  on 
the  sides  of  the  white  canvas  wagons,  the 
prairie  and  the  valley  of  the  Arkansas  lay 
spread  out  in  all  the  idyllic  glory  and  beauty 
of  an  early  summer  morning  with  not  a  sign 
of  war  or  hostile  savages. 

The  men  in  high  spirits  had  a  feast  of  hot 
coffee,  buffalo-meat,  and  biscuits,  and  when 
after  an  hour  no  Indian  had  been  seen,  the 
stock  was  turned  out  to  feed  on  the  rich  young 
grass. 


102  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

As  there  was  plenty  of  water  for  the  stock 
near  the  corral,  the  captain  thought  it  safest 
not  to  move  before  the  Pawnees  had  been 
given  time  to  get  out  of  the  country. 

"But  if  we  don't  see  any  more  of  them," 
he  told  the  men,  "we  are  off  for  Pawnee  Fork 
at  daybreak  to-morrow. 

"This  camp  is  a  regular  robbers'  roost. 
It  has  the  worst  reputation  of  all  the  camps 
on  the  whole  long  route.  Some  old  plains 
men  claim  that  Pawnee  Rock  is  the  haunt  of 
evil  spirits.  They  say  the  soul  of  every  bad 
Indian  that  ever  roamed  these  prairies  lives 
under  the  ridge  back  of  Pawnee  Bock." 


CHAPTEE  IX 

TO   PAWNEE   FOEK 

THEEE  was  now  a  whole  day  ahead  of 
the  men  in  the  train  with  no  definite 
duties  to  perform.  Such  days,  unless 
they  came  too  often  on  account  of  bad  weather 
or  high  water  at  the  fords,  were  generally 
welcome.  The  men  rested  and  made  up  sleep, 
they  repaired  and  washed  their  clothing,  they 
put  wagons,  loads,  and  harnesses  in  good 
shape,  and  those  who  were  so  inclined  tried 
their  luck  at  hunting,  if  the  wagon-master 
permitted  it. 

The  oxen  and  mules  that  were  compelled 
to  work  in  the  day-time  and  find  food  and 
rest  at  night,  were  always  benefited  by  a  day 
of  rest. 

Ted  and  Philip  and  a  few  men  like  Burley, 
who  were  still  boys  at  heart,  cast  about  for 
some  activity  to  fill  their  time  and  minds. 

103 


104  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

The  white,  hummocky  sand-hills  south  of 
the  Arkansas  had  attracted  the  boys'  fancy 
ever  since  the  trail  struck  the  river  at  the 
Great  Bend. 

11  Captain,  could  we  ride  over  and  explore 
them?"  asked  Philip.  "Burley  would  go 
with  us." 

"You  would  find  nothing,  boys,  but  sand 
and  rattlesnakes,  and  you  will  see  the  sand 
hills  pretty  soon  when  we  cross  the  Arkansas 
for  the  Long  Dry  Route  to  the  Cimarron. ' ' 

"But  we  might  find  some  buffaloes  or  an 
telopes,"  suggested  Ted. 

"No,  you  can't  go  hunting,"  the  Captain 
decided.  "Before  you  know,  the  Pawnees 
might  be  hunting  you.  You  had  better  all 
stick  around  camp  to-day.  I  feel  pretty  sure 
that  some  of  them  are  watching  us." 

The  Captain,  however,  had  no  objection  to 
the  boys  and  Burley  sauntering  along  the 
ridge  that  ran  back  from  Pawnee  Rock. 

"Do  you  know  who  is  buried  under  those 
two  stone  piles'?"  asked  Ted. 

Burley  did  not  know.    The  graves  had  been 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  105 

there  as  long  as  he  had  traveled  over  the 
trail. 

"You  will  find  some  lone  graves  all  the 
way  to  Santa  Fe,"  he  informed  the  boys. 

"Were  all  those  men  killed  by  Indians !" 
Ted  wanted  to  know. 

6 '  Most  of  them  were, ' '  Burley  replied,  '  *  and 
if  their  friends  had  not  piled  rocks  on  their 
graves  the  coyotes  would  have  dug  them  out 
in  a  hurry. " 

The  boys  wanted  to  know  if  Burley  knew 
of  any  fights  that  had  taken  place  at  Pawnee 
Eock.  Yes,  Burley  knew  of  plenty  of  them. 

Several  years  before,  three  trappers  that 
were  going  east  with  their  pack-loads  of  fur 
from  the  mountains  were  caught  at  Pawnee 
Rock  by  half  a  hundred  Cheyennes. 

* '  Three  white  men  by  fifty  Indians  f ' '  asked 
Ted. 

"Yes,  that's  right;  if  you  don't  want  to 
believe  it,  boy,  you  needn't  listen. 

"The  trappers  were  dead  shots  and  had 
plenty  of  ammunition  and  every  time  they 
fired  an  Indian  rolled  over  dead,  but  the 


106  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

Cheyennes  kept  the  trappers  on  the  rock  all 
afternoon  and  all  night. 

"At  first  the  trappers  were  very  much 
afraid  that  the  Indians  would  kill  their  mules, 
but  the  Indians  did  not  try  to  kill  them. 
They  thought  they  could  get  the  mules  and 
the  furs  after  they  had  killed  the  men. ' ' 

" Fifty  Indians  and  three  white  men!"  ex 
claimed  Ted.  "Why  didn't  they  just  rush 
at  them  and  capture  them?" 

"That  isn't  the  way  Indians  fight,"  ex 
plained  Burley.  "Now  keep  still,  kid,  and 
let  me  finish. 

"In  the  morning  the  Indians  tied  blankets 
and  brush  to  their  ponies  and  tried  to  get 
within  range  of  their  arrows  and  old  guns, 
but  the  trappers  dropped  so  many  of  the 
ponies  that  the  others  stampeded  and  ran 
away. 

"After  a  while  the  Indians  returned  again, 
and  this  time  they  began  to  set  fire  to  the 
prairie.  It  was  very  early  in  the  season  and 
there  was  only  the  tall  dead  grass  of  the 
year  before. 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  107 

"The  trappers  took  their  mules  to  the  side 
of  the  rock,  where  they  were  somewhat  shel 
tered  from  the  wind.  Then  they  started  a 
back  fire  close  to  the  edge  of  the  rock;  and 
hid  behind  a  ledge,  while  the  wind  drove  the 
black  smoke  and  the  cinders  from  the  big 
fire  over  their  heads. 

"When  the  smoke  cleared  away  they  found 
their  mules  with  hair  and  tails  badly  singed, 
but  not  really  hurt. 

"Most  of  the  Indians  now  went  back  to 
their  camp,  but  enough  of  them  stayed  so  that 
the  trappers  could  not  get  away,  and  they  had 
to  stay  another  day  on  the  rock  without  food 
or  water.  They  had  but  little  ammunition 
left  now,  and  they  expected  the  Cheyennes 
would  come  back  in  the  afternoon  with  some 
new  deviltry  scheme  and  that  they  would 
finally  get  their  scalps  after  all. 

"But  toward  evening  the  Indians  all  rode 
away  and  pretty  soon  the  trappers  saw  a 
caravan  coming  from  Santa  Fe.  The  Indians 
had  also  seen  this  caravan  and  had  at  last 
given  up  the  fight." 


108  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

In  the  middle  of  the  forenoon  Captain  Har- 
ley  gave  orders  to  hitch  up.  "We  might  as 
well  move,"  he  said  to  Burley  and  the  boys. 
"If  the  Reds  bother  us  too  much,  we  can 
corral  and  stand  them  off." 

Burley  and  the  wagon-master  were  the  only 
men  in  the  train  who  knew  why  Philip  and 
Ted  had  joined  the  train. 

"You  lads  will  want  some  time  to  look  for 
'  signs '  at  our  next  camp  at  Pawnee  Fork.  If 
your  father  and  his  partner  had  a  fight  there 
with  the  Indians,  we  ought  to  be  able  to  find 
a  clue  of  some  kind.  We  are  the  first  train 
out  from  Independence  and  we  have  met  no 
body  from  Santa  Fe." 

The  train  made  the  sixteen  miles  to  Pawnee 
Fork  without  any  difficulty,  although  every 
man  was  constantly  on  the  lookout  for  In 
dians.  It  seemed  that  they  had  vanished  as 
suddenly  as  they  had  come. 

As  soon  as  the  camp  had  been  established, 
Burley,  the  wagon-master,  and  the  two  boys 
began  to  look  for  signs  of  the  fight  about 
which  Crooked  Horn  and  the  blacksmith  at 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  10S 

Council  Grove  had  told.  After  making  sure 
that  no  Indians  were  concealed  in  the  brush 
and  small  timber  along  the  creek,  the  four 
rode  carefully  over  every  rod  of  ground. 

"I  guess  we're  up  against  it,"  remarked 
Burley.  "It  is  like  looking  for  a  needle  in  a 
haystack." 

"No,  it  is  like  looking  for  a  surveyor's  car 
pet-tack  in  the  brush,"  replied  Harley. 
"Jim,  did  you  ever  help  a  surveyor  find  the 
carpet-tack  driven  into  an  old  stake,  which 
marks  a  line  somebody  had  run  through  the 
brush  a  year  or  two  ago?  You  know  the 
rusty  little  thing  is  there,  but  you  have  to 
get  down  on  your  hands  and  knees  to  find 
it." 

Pretty  soon  the  cook  called  supper.  After 
supper  the  four  men  searched  again  till  dark 
for  half  a  mile  up  the  creek  without  finding 
anything,  except  the  sites  of  some  old  camp- 
fires. 

In  the  morning  they  renewed  their  search 
down  the  fork  toward  the  river  with  the 
same  result.  They  were  about  ready  to  give 


110  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

up  and  resume  their  journey,  when  Philip 
thought  he  saw  a  dark  object  in  a  copse  of 
scrub  box-elders. 

"Come  here,  men!"  he  called.  "I  think  I 
have  found  something. " 

"Only  a  piece  of  an  old  blanket, "  Burley 
said  as  he  turned  it  over  with  his  foot. 

"No,  look  Philip, "  Ted  half  whispered, 
*  '  it 's  a  piece  of  Mr.  Fridley  's  coat.  I  remem 
ber  the  buttons  it  had  on  when  he  and  Father 
left." 

In  the  meantime  Ha  r ley  was  busy  with 
something  a  rod  away  in  a  wild  cherry  thicket. 

"Have  you  found  anything,  Captain," 
asked  Burley. 

"Come  over  here,"  Harley  requested. 

"There  they  are,"  he  pointed  out.  "Hu 
man  bones.  All  the  coyotes  have  left." 

Before  the  train  moved,  the  four  men  bur 
ied  the  bones  and  piled  some  rocks  on  the 
grave  to  mark  the  spot. 

There  could  no  longer  be  any  doubt  about 
the  truth  of  Crooked  Horn's  story. 

"We'll  hitch  up  now,"  said  Harley,  when 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  111 

they  had  returned  from  the  new  lone  grave. 
"We  may  meet  some  friendly  Indians  or 
some  Mexicans  from  Santa  Fe  who  may  be 
able  to  tell  us  more  if — if  we  can  get  them  to 
talk." 


CHAPTER  X 

THROUGH   A   HAILSTORM 

ALTHOUGH  no  signs  of  IT  Vms  had 
been  seen  since  the  Iran*  k-i'i  Pawnee 
Rock,  the  men  were  ii!.st,r  acted  not  to 
string  out  too  far,  and  to  keep  themselves 
ready  for  trouble. 

The  trail  continues  southwestward  from 
Pawnee  Fork,  and  soon  runs  up  a  small 
stream  known  as  Coon  Creek,  on  the  fork  of 
which  the  caravan  made  the  next  camp. 

The  country  assumed  now  more  and  more 
the  aspect  of  an  endless,  unbroken  prairie. 
The  grass  was  much  shorter  than  it  had  been 
farther  east,  and  it  began  to  appear  in 
bunches  like  the  typical  buffalo  grass  of  the 
western  plains. 

"It  grows  like  little  green  brushes,"  re 
marked  Ted.  " Isn't  it  too  short  for  the 
cattle  I" 

"Not    at    all,"    Burley    informed    him. 
112 


THE  SILVER  CACHE  113 

"They  like  it  better  than  the  tall  grass,  and 
they  grow  fat  on  it,  if  you  give  them  enough 
time  to  graze." 

"It  is  even  good  in  winter  if  the  snow  does 
not  cover  it  too  deep;  for  it  generally  dries 
on  the  stalk  and  is  as  nourishing  as  good 
hay." 

Large  trees  had  now  entirely  disappeared ; 
only  groves  and  patches  of  small  cottonwoods, 
box-elders,  and  cherries  grew  straggling 
along  the  streams,  while  they  could  just  see 
the  green  valley  of  the  Arkansas  and  its  sand 
hills  more  than  ten  miles  to  the  south. 

In  the  afternoon  Captain  Harley  was  rid 
ing  about  half  a  mile  ahead  of  the  train,  while 
Burley  and  the  two  boys  were  bringing  up  the 
rear.  The  day  was  intensely  hot.  The  big 
canvas-covered  wagons  were  slowly  creeping 
along  the  trail,  with  the  oxen  panting  and 
the  mules  sweating  in  the  heat.  On  the 
prairie  scarcely  a  sign  of  life  was  visible,  ex 
cept  when  the  grayish-yellow  prairie  dogs 
hopped  from  one  burrow  to  another;  and 
while  curiously  eyeing  the  train,  accompanied 


114  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

the  flipping  of  their  funny  little  tails  with 
loud,  sharp  whistling  and  scolding,  as  if  they 
resented  the  intrusion  of  man  on  their  prairie 
solitude. 

Some  distance  ahead  of  the  train  a  gray 
cloud  was  rapidly  forming  and  the  men  could 
soon  see  sharp  flashes  of  lightning  shoot  down 
upon  the  plain,  followed  by  a  heavy  rumbling 
of  thunder.  Then  the  wind  stopped  blowing 
and  an  ominous  calm  descended  over  the 
trail. 

"That  cloud  looks  like  it  had  a  twister  or 
something  in  it,"  commented  Burley.  "I 
don't  like  the  ashiness  of  it." 

Now  Captain  Harley  was  coming  back  and 
was  evidently  giving  some  order  to  the  driv 
ers,  for  they  began  to  turn  off  to  the  right  of 
the  trail. 

Very  soon  Burley  and  the  lads  could  hear 
the  captain  shout:  "Turn  out  to  the  right, 
men,  and  form  a  half-circle.  We  are  going 
to  meet  a  cyclone  or  an  earthquake.  There 's 
a  roaring  and  rumbling  ahead  like  a  buffalo 
stampede." 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  115 

The  train  had  just  come  to  a  halt,  when 
the  cloud  was  above  them.  A  heavy  wind 
sprang  up,  and  a  few  scattered  hailstones,  as 
large  as  walnuts,  struck  the  prairie  and 
bounced  back  over  the  wagons. 

4  *  Hail,"  shouted  the  wagon-master. 
"Look  out,  men,  don't  let  your  teams  break 
away!" 

Within  a  few  minutes  the  hailstorm  broke 
upon  men  and  beasts  with  all  its  fury.  The 
rumbling  of  the  hail  on  the  wagons  and  on 
the  ground  drowned  the  shouts  of  the  men, 
who  tried  their  best  to  keep  the  maddened 
animals  from  breaking  away  or  becoming 
tangled  up. 

"Whoa,  boys,  whoa,  boys!"  shouted  the 
drivers  and  cracked  their  whips  in  the  faces 
of  the  animals  that  tried  to  break  away  and 
run  madly  for  shelter  with  the  wind. 

A  few  hailstones  had  almost  the  size  of  a 
man's  fist  and  the  poor  animal  that  was  struck 
by  one  of  them  bellowed  with  pain. 

For  ten  or  fifteen  minutes  the  uproar  con 
tinued,  a  confused  noise  of  storm,  hail,  and 


116  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

rain,  of  the  shouts  of  men  and  the  bellowing 
grunts  of  cattle.  So  thick  fell  the  hail,  and 
rain  that  no  man  could  see  from  his  leading 
team  to  his  wagon. 

When  the  commotion  was  over  the  hail  in 
some  places,  where  it  had  been  washed  and 
blown  together,  lay  a  foot  thick. 

The  storm  ceased  as  suddenly  as  it  had 
broken,  and  each  man  began  to  look  over  his 
wagon  and  animals.  There  was  no  wagon 
without  holes  in  the  canvas,  where  a  big  hail 
stone  had  gone  through,  and  almost  every  an 
imal  showed  some  swollen  or  bleeding  bruises. 
The  men  had  escaped  serious  injury  by  hiding 
behind  the  animals  or  the  wagons. 

"Where's  Fleming  and  his  mules?"  some 
body  asked.  "I  thought  he  headed  in  to  my 
right." 

"Well,  where  is  he?"  several  others  asked. 

The  Captain  came  riding  by  to  see  how  the 
train  had  come  through. 

"Where  on  earth  are  Fleming  and  his 
mules?"  he  asked.  "He  is  not  at  the  other 
end  of  the  line." 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  117 

"Wait  here,  men,"  he  added.  "I  will  go 
and  look  for  hi™.  Those  infernal  eastern 
mules !  I  wish  I  had  dumped  them  into  the 
Missouri!" 

"Come  on,  boys,"  he  called  to  Burley  and 
the  lads,  "we  have  to  hurry,  if  we  are  going 
to  catch  up  with  them. ' ' 

They  found  Fleming  a  few  hundred  yards 
north  of  the  trail,  knocked  senseless  by  a  big 
hailstone. 

Captain  Harley  stayed  with  the  uncon 
scious  man  and  asked  his  companions  to  ride 
on  and  bring  in  the  missing  wagon  and  mules. 

After  a  little  while  Fleming  came  to. 
"How  my  head  aches!"  were  the  first  words 
he  said.  "Where  am  I?  Is  that  you,  Doc? 
Or  am  I  dreaming?" 

"It's  Old  Doc  himself,"  Harley  assured 
him.  "You  are  still  on  earth,  Fleming.  We 
just  found  you  half  a  mile  off  the  trail. ' 9 

"What  in  blazes  happened  to  me?"  asked 
Fleming. — "Oh,  yes,"  after  a  few  minutes, 
"now  I  remember.  My  mules  started  to 
break  away  in  the  storm,  and  I  guess  a  hail- 


118  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

stone  knocked  me  down.  Where  are  those 
mules  f  It  seems  to  me  they  headed  north, 
but  I  don't  know.  All  I  remember  is  that  I 
tried  to  stop  them." 

"The  boys  and  Jim  have  gone  after  them. 
They'll  soon  bring  them  in.  You  had  better 
get  on  my  mule  and  we  '11  go  to  camp. ' ' 

When  they  reached  the  camp  the  men 
crowded  around  Fleming  to  learn  what  had 
happened  to  him.  Most  of  the  other  men  had 
sore  spots  on  their  bodies  and  heads,  but  none 
had  been  knocked  senseless.  Harley  then 
told  the  men  to  drive  on  a  few  miles  so  that 
they  could  find  dry  buffalo  chips  for  their 
camp-fires,  for  he  knew  that  a  hailstorm  never 
covers  more  than  a  narrow  strip  of  country. 
In  fact  it  is  often  only  a  fraction  of  a  mile 
wide. 

"No  need,"  he  added,  "to  wait  for  Flem 
ing's  wagon.  Jim  and  the  boys  will  see 
that  we  have  gone  on  and  they  will  soon  bring 
in  the  runaway  mules." 

So  the  train  moved  on  about  two  miles  and 
the  cooks  soon  had  the  coffee  simmering  and 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  119 

the  buffalo  steak  broiling  over  a  liot  glowing 
fire  of  buffalo  fuel. 

The  men  were  in  fine  spirit  after  their  ad 
venture  and  exchanged  experiences,  swapped 
yarns,  as  they  called  it,  about  the  worst 
storms  and  the  biggest  hailstones  they  had 
ever  seen. 

"Gol  dern  you,  Pete!"  one  of  the  men  ad 
dressed  Shawnee  Pete.  "I  bet  you  never 
stuck  your  nose  out  of  the  canvas.  I  guess 
you  never  woke  up !" 

Pete  said  he  had  stuck  out  his  head,  but  he 
admitted  that  he  drew  it  in  again  "almighty 
quick, "  for  he  hadn't  hired  out  to  stop  hail 
stones  with  his  head. 

The  men  finished  their  supper,  and  Shaw- 
nee  Pete  and  his  helper  for  the  night  rode 
out  after  the  cattle.  The  men  were  in  a  talk 
ative  mood.  All  kinds  of  stories  were  ex 
changed  and  the  talk  turned  upon  Santa  Fe 
and  Mexico,  for  in  those  days  Santa  Fe  was 
still  within  Mexican  territory.  Would  the 
tax  of  $500  a  wagon  be  still  in  force?  If  so, 
they  would  combine  two  or  three  loads  before 


120  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

they  entered  the  old  adobe  town  and  burn  the 
empty  wagons.  Would  Old  Doc  hide  his  ex 
port  gold  and  silver  in  hollow  axle-trees  as 
some  of  the  traders  did,  or  was  he  too  honest 
to  evade  the  outrageous  export  duty  on  gold 
and  silver  coin? 

What  sort  of  a  time  would  they  have  in  the 
old  Mexican  town?  They  would  all  do  the 
fandango  with  the  Spanish  beauties,  of 
course.  A  fellow  wants  a  little  fun  after  he 
has  been  hoofing  it  over  the  trail  for  three 
months. 

"Have  your  fun,  you  young  fellows,"  an 
old  gray-headed  driver  counselled,  "but  don't 
let  the  Taos  lightning  tangle  your  legs/' 

Then  the  talk  drifted  to  the  trials  that  were 
likely  still  ahead  of  them,  for  they  were  now 
nearing  the  half  way  camp  of  the  crossing  of 
the  Arkansas,  that  is  if  Old  Doc  took  the  dry 
route  by  way  of  the  Cimarron.  He  most 
likely  would.  Old  Doc  never  wasted  any 
time. 

Would  they  have  trouble  in  crossing  the 
Arkansas?  The  water  was  likely  to  be  high 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  121 

and  the  quicksands  would  bother  the  mules 
quite  a  bit;  but  Doc  would  find  a  way  of 
getting  them  across. 

Would  they  get  into  any  "  water  scrape " 
if  they  took  the  Cimarron  route?  Anyhow 
there  would  be  sixty-five  miles  from  the 
Arkansas  to  the  Cimarron,  where  there 
would  not  be  a  drop  of  water  for  the  stock. 

While  this  talk  was  going  on  among  the 
men,  the  Captain  and  Fleming  were  begin 
ning  to  feel  uneasy  about  the  runaway  team 
and  the  three  men. 

"We  ought  to  see  them  by  this  time," 
Harley  declared  as  he  scanned  the  horizon 
to  the  northeast.  *  '  I  hope  they  haven 't  fallen 
in  with  any  savages.  I'm  afraid  I  should 
not  have  let  them  go,  especially  the  boys. 
The  sun  will  be  down  in  an  hour ;  and  if  they 
don't  show  up  pretty  soon,  I'll  go  after  them 
myself." 

Another  half -hour  passed  and  still  no  men 
or  mules  were  to  be.  seen,  and  several  men 
volunteered  to  go  with  the  Captain  in  search 
of  the  men  and  animals. 


122  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

The  sun  had  just  set  when  they  saw  three 
horsemen  outlined  against  the  crimson  sky. 

"Well,  I'll  be  hanged, "  muttered  Harley, 
"if  they  aren't  coming  back  without  the 
wagon!  Where  on  earth  can  those  crazy 
beasts  have  gone?  Can't  have  sunk  into  the 
prairie?  Surely  that's  Jim  and  the  lads.  I 
can  tell  little  Ted  on  the  pony  and  Jim  on  his 
big  mule.  Those  aren't  Indians,  are  they, 
men?" 

The  men  agreed  that  the  coming  horsemen 
were  not  Indians. 

The  three  horsemen  now  headed  directly 
for  the  Captain  and  his  men. 

"Doc,"  reported  Burley  as  soon  as  they 
met,  "it  sounds  all-fired  strange,  but  never  a 
hair  or  a  hoof  did  we  see  of  those  dog-gasted 
mules." 

For  a  moment  the  wagon-master  was 
speechless,  then  he  gave  vent  to  a  string  of 
strong  invectives  on  mules  in  general  and  on 
Fleming's  string  in  particular. 

"Well,  boys,"  he  ended,  catching  his 
breath,  "come  along  and  get  some  supper. 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  123 

You  must  be  half  starved.  Hang  it  if  I  don't 
go  after  them  myself  in  the  morning.  I 
guess  the  blasted  fool  critters  will  have 
stopped  running  by  sunrise  1" 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE   LOST    WAGON 

NEXT  morning  the  Captain  placed 
Burley  in  charge  of  the  train  with 
instructions  to  move  in  close  order 
and  with  great  caution.  At  a  place  known 
as  The  Caches  the  train  was  to  make  camp 
and  wait  for  the  Captain,  if  he  had  not  joined 
them  before  they  reached  The  Caches. 

Harley  himself  asked  the  two  lads  and 
Fleming  to  go  with  him  in  search  of  the  lost 
wagon.  They  rode  at  a  brisk  pace  back  to 
their  "Hail  Camp,"  as  the  boys  called  the 
place  and  tried  to  find  a  trail  of  the  lost 
wagon. 

"It  would  be  all-fired  queer,"  vowed  the 
old  wagon-master,  "if  we  could  not  find  the 
trail  of  a  three-ton  prairie  schooner  and  ten 
mules.  Bless  your  soul,  the  critters  can't 

124 


THE  SILVER  CACHE  125 

crawl  into  a  badger  hole  and  they  can't  fly! 
We  must  catch  sight  of  them  somewhere." 

So  all  four  of  them  rode  back  and  forth 
between  the  stopping-place  and  a  branch  of 
Coon  Creek,  but  not  a  track  of  a  wagon  could 
they  find.  Then  they  followed  up  the  branch 
of  the  creek  westward,  expecting  every 
moment  to  catch  sight  of  the  wagon  lying  on 
its  side  in  the  bed  or  gully  of  the  small 
stream.  They  doubled  back  in  a  half -circle 
around  the  head  of  the  branch  and  rode  east 
ward  along  the  divide  between  Coon  Creek 
and  Pawnee  Fork. 

The  Captain  was  in  a  truly  grim  humor  now. 

"Fleming,"  he  said,  "look  yonder.  Do 
you  see  that  coyote  about  a  mile  away  driving 
a  jack-rabbit  ahead  of  him?" 

After  some  careful  directions  Fleming  and 
the  boys  saw  the  coyote  but  they  could  not 
find  the  jack. 

"Drat  these  infernal  plains!"  the  old  man 
broke  out.  "I  can  see  a  gopher  half  a  mile 
away,  why  in  thunder  can't  I  see  a  ten-mule 
team  with  a  house  behind  them!  They  must 


126  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

be  here  somewhere.  The  beasts  couldn't  eat 
the  wagon  and  then  crawl  into  the  ground  like 
prairie  dogs!" 

Fleming  and  the  boys  were  almost  hope 
lessly  puzzled.  They  scanned  the  prairie  and 
the  horizon  east  and  west,  north  and  south; 
they  searched  the  ground  for  tracks  of  the 
big  wheels ;  but  nothing  was  to  be  seen.  They 
rode  closer  toward  Pawnee  Fork  and  crossed 
innumerable  buffalo  trails,  where  for  cen 
turies  the  great  wild  ^  herds  had  gone  to 
water.  They  did  find  the  tracks  of  some 
Indian  ponies  that  had  gone  north  along  one 
of  the  trails. 

'  '  There ! ' '  exclaimed  Harley, ' '  that  was  the 
bunch  that  thought  they  would  like  our  stock. 
Look  at  your  guns,  boys.  They  may  be  tak 
ing  a  rest  in  the  brush  along  the  Fork  some 
where." 

"How  do  you  know,  Captain,"  asked 
Philip,  "that  they  were  not  just  a  bunch  of 
wild  ponies?" 

"  Their  tracks  cut  in  too  deep.  That  shows 
they  carried  riders." 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  127 

They  rode  about  almost  till  noon,  when  the 
old  man  stopped  with  a  grunt. 

" Bless  my  soul/'  he  growled,  "I  guess  we 
have  to  give  it  up.  Old  Satan  himself  must 
have  carried  those  mules  to  the  place  where 
all  mules  ought  to  go! 

"I  have  heard  of  men  losing  wagons  and 
teams  on  the  prairie  but  I  always  thought 
they  were  city  fellows  who  couldn't  follow  a 
trail  or  were  too  blasted  scared  to  look 
around,  but  this  beats  me.  Losing  a  ten-mule 
team  in  broad  daylight!  It's  too  much  for 
my  old  head,  and  I  thought  I  knew  these 
prairies  some. 

"Well,  let's  trot  it  back  to  camp,  boys,  and 
let  the  devil  keep  the  mules !  It  means  $3000 
off  our  profits,  but  we'll  be  all  right,  if  we 
can  only  bring  the  rest  of  the  outfit  safe  to 
Santa  Fe." 

The  men  were  overjoyed  to  see  their  leader 
return,  for  they  had  begun  to  fear  that  some 
accident  had  befallen  him  and  his  companions. 

"Boys,"  he  told  them,  "that  wagon  is 
gone,  lost  for  good.  I  can't  understand  it, 


128  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

but  I  reckon  we  have  done  our  best  to  find 
it,  and  we  can't  hunt  for  it  any  longer.  We 
just  have  to  let  the  small  thing  go  to  save 
the  big." 

Philip  and  Ted  were  curious  about  the  big 
holes  in  the  prairie  which  had  given  the  name 
to  this  camp. 

"Who  made  those  big  holes?"  asked  Ted, 
"and  what  were  they  for?" 

Burley  told  them  that  some  traders  had 
made  them  about  ten  years  before.  They 
had  started  too  late  in  the  season,  and  winter 
overtook  them  when  they  came  to  this  place. 
Nearly  all  their  animals  died  from  cold  and 
hunger,  so  they  hid  their  goods  in  these  holes, 
and  in  spring  they  traveled  on  foot  to  the 
Taos  Valley  in  Mexico,  where  they  bought 
mules  to  transport  their  merchandise. 

"Didn't  the  Indians  find  their  caches?" 
Ted  wondered.  "I  thought  they  noticed 
every  little  change  or  track  on  the  ground." 

"No,  the  Indians  never  found  these  caches, 
for  the  men  knew  how  to  make  a  cache.  They 
made  the  pits  in  the  shape  of  big  jugs  and 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  129 

lined  the  inside  with  grass  and  brush  to  keep 
the  goods  dry. 

"But  the  most  important  thing  was  to  con 
ceal  all  traces  of  the  caches  from  the  Indians. 
So  they  carefully  scattered  the  dirt  dug  out, 
and  some  of  it  they  threw  into  the  river. 
When  the  goods  were  all  in  place,  they  cov 
ered  the  small  opening  with  brush  and  strong 
poles,  and  then  they  replaced  the  sod  so  care 
fully  that  not  even  an  Indian  could  tell  that 
the  wild  prairie  had  ever  been  disturbed. " 

"How  could  they  hide  their  big  wagons f " 
the  boy  wanted  to  know. 

"In  those  early  days  the  traders  had  no 
wagons,  they  used  only  pack  mules. " 

Before  the  men  rolled  up  in  their  blankets, 
the  wagon-master  told  them  that  to-morrow 
they  were  likely  to  have  a  hard  day.  The 
day's  journey  would  not  be  long,  but  they 
would  cross  the  Arkansas  and  would  then  be 
ready  for  the  long  waterless  stretch  to  the 
Cimarron. 

"And  now  one  last  caution,"  he  concluded. 
1 '  Don 't  any  of  you  stray  off  after  buffalo  or 


130  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

antelope.  If  a  big  ten-mule  team  can  vanish 
on  this  endless,  wild  prairie,  we  surely  can 
never  find  any  lost  men. 

"Another  thing.  We  have  not  seen  any 
Indians  for  several  days,  but  that  doesn't 
mean  that  they  may  not  be  watching  us  this 
very  moment. 

"It  is  my  duty  to  take  this  train  to  Santa 
Fe  and  bring  you  all  safe  home.  If  any  man 
gets  lost  or  falls  into  the  hands  of  the  In 
dians,  he  will  have  to  save  himself  or  perish. 
The  rest  of  us  could  not  do  a  thing  for  him. 
For  we  could  not,  with  a  dozen  men,  start 
chasing  ten  thousand  Indians,  who  roam  over 
half  the  continent.  We  are  passing  out  of 
the  range  of  the  Pawnees,  but  on  the  other 
side  of  the  Arkansas  we  strike  the  country  of 
the  Comanches,  who  are  in  a  bad  mood  on  ac 
count  of  the  treatment  they  have  received  by 
the  Texans." 


o 


CHAPTER  XII 

CROSSING   THE  ARKANSAS 

LD  SHAWNEE  PETE  and  his 
helper  took  great  pains  to  have  the 
whole  herd  drink  plenty  of  water 
before  he  returned  them  to  the  corral  next 
morning,  for  he  knew  only  too  well  that  no 
driver  could  control  thirst-famished  animals 
in  crossing  a  stream. 

Moreover,  crossing  the  Arkansas  was  not 
like  crossing  one  of  the  numerous  creeks  on 
the  trail.  The  Arkansas  was  a  real  river, 
running  with  a  strong  current  over  ever- 
shifting  quicksands.  The  river  was  deep 
from  the  snow  water  that  was  coming  down 
from  the  mountains  and  also  on  account  of 
the  rainy  season  that  had  just  passed  over 
the  plains. 

Some  of  the  men  thought  the  train  should 
wait  till  the  river  had  subsided  some,  but  the 

131 


132  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

wagon-boss  was  impatient  at  any  further  de 
lay. 

In  the  bunch  of  loose  cattle  there  was  a 
very  large  ox  called  Big  Bill.  His  size  and 
his  horns  gave  him  the  looks  of  a  formidable 
beast,  but  Big  Bill  was  as  gentle  in  disposi 
tion  as  a  lamb  and  as  calm  as  a  philosopher. 
He  had  been  over  the  trail  several  times 
and  knew  every  crossing;  but  had  never  been 
known  to  join  a  stampede.  If  the  water  in 
a  stream  was  too  deep  for  wading,  he  calmly 
swam  across,  as  if  swimming  rivers  was  the 
ordinary  business  of  an  ox.  And  as  for  the 
treacherous  quicksands,  which  always  threw 
the  mules  into  a  panic  and  made  even  many 
of  the  oxen  nervous,  Bill  didn't  mind  them 
at  all.  His  broad  feet  and  long  legs  always 
seemed  to  touch  solid  bottom.  In  particu 
larly  bad  stretches  he  just  walked  along 
briskly  so  as  not  to  give  himself  time  to  sink 
in. 

Big  Bill  was  easily  the  boss  of  the  herd, 
but  only  when  a  fresh  young  steer  jostled 
him  too  roughly  did  he  make  use  of  his  im- 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  133 

mense  strength  to  push  the  offender  aside, 
but  unprovoked,  he  never  molested  ox  or 
mule. 

1 1 Drive  up  the  loose  stock!"  called  the  Cap 
tain  when  the  train  had  halted  on  the  river 
bank. 

When  the  stock  came  up  with  old  Bill  in  the 
rear,  the  Captain  slapped  the  big  ox  on  the 
withers :  ' '  Old  boy, ' '  he  said, ' l  you  carry  me 
over. ' ' 

"What's  the  old  man  up  to  now!"  several 
of  the  men  asked  each  other,  as  the  Captain 
swung  himself  on  the  back  of  Big  Bill,  who 
seemed  to  know  exactly  what  was  wanted  and 
walked  slowly  into  the  river. 

"Drive  the  loose  stock  in  after  me,"  Harley 
called  back,  '  <  and  then  wait  till  I  come  back  !.' ' 

Lined  up  gn  the  water's  edge,  the  men 
watched  the  Captain  ride  calmly  into  the 
broad  river,  with  nothing  but  a  willow  switch 
to  guide  his  mount. 

It  would  have  been  amusing  to  hear  the 
comments  of  the  men. 

"Well,  I'll  be  this  and  I'll  be  that!"  came 


134  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

from  all  sides.  "I'll  be  scalped  if  Old  Bill 
isn't  as  wise  as  Old  Doc.  Look  at  him 
wading  up  to  his  neck!" 

"Ah,  Mex,  what  are  you  giving  us?  Wad 
ing?  Man,  can't  you  see  he  is  swimming? 
He's  a  regular  navigator,  Old  Bill  is." 

When  Big  Bill  reached  a  place  where  he 
really  had  to  swim,  Captain  Harley  in  a 
rather  undignified  way  slipped  off  Bill's  back 
and  took  hold  of  his  tail. 

The  men  shouted  and  yelled.  ' '  Go  it,  Bill ! 
Go  it,  Doc!  Hold  on  to  the  rope,  Doc!" 

But  both  Bill  and  Doc  acted  as  if  crossing 
deep,  wide  rivers  was  their  special  game,  and 
the  loose  stock  followed  the  leaders. 

"I  wouldn't  cross  that  river  for  all  the 
goods  in  the  train,"  drawled  one  of  the 
drivers. 

"  You  are  blamed  right,  Jack,  you 
wouldn't,"  his  friend  assented.  "It  takes 
somebody  with  nerves  and  brains  like  Bill 
and  the  Old  Man.  Take  it  r  me,  Jack, 
Big  Bill  has  got  more  sense  tl  Fome  men  I 
know." 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  135 

And  again  there  was  alternate  silence  and 
shouts  and  laughter  as  Bill  walked  and  waded 
and  swam,  first  across  the  broad  main  chan 
nel,  and  then  across  several  narrower  side- 
channels. 

"Well,  I  think  we  can  make  it,"  announced 
the  Captain  on  his  return. 

"Unhitch  the  mules  and  drive  them  across. 
Then  hitch  twelve  yokes  of  oxen  to  each 
wagon  and  come  along.  Bill  and  I  will 
pilot  you.  You  men  will  have  to  get  into 
the  wagons,  for  there  are  several  short 
stretches  where  the  cattle  have  to  swim. 
Use  the  whips  a  little  and  don't  let  them 
slow  up  in  the  quicksand." 

Much  to  the  surprise  of  Philip  and  Ted 
and  the  men  who  were  new  in  handling  cattle, 
the  oxen  did  not  hesitate  to  take  the  river. 

"Gosh,  Philip,"  said  Ted,  "I  believe  they 
know  that  they  can  go  through  if  Big  Bill 
goes  through." 

Ted  was  afraid  to  ride  his  pony  across  on 
account  of  the  quicksand,  so  they  threw  the 
reins  over  the  backs  of  the  ponies  and  drove 


136  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

them  across  with  the  mules  while  the  boys 
rode  across  in  one  of  the  wagons. 

Big  Bill  and  the  Captain  had  picked  out 
the  best  ford  and  to  the  surprise  of  the  men 
all  the  wagons  crossed  without  serious 
trouble.  Although  the  oxen  had  to  swim  in 
several .  places,  there  were  always  enough 
yokes  that  had  a  solid  footing  to  pull  the  big 
wagons  right  along. 

Only  the  mules  proved  true  to  their  reputa 
tion  as  poor  waders,  for  several  of  them  be 
came  mired  in  the  quicksand  on  the  south 
bank  and  had  to  be  pulled  out  by  a  chain 
around  their  necks. 

"Bill,  old  boy,"  the  Captain  addressed  the 
quietly  grazing  old  ox,  "when  you  get  too  old 
for  the  trail  you  shall  live  in  my  pasture  at 
home  as  long  as  you  care  to  eat  grass  on  this 
earth." 

Then  turning  to  Burley  he  remarked: 
"Jim,  I  would  have  been  afraid  to  cross  with 
out  Old  Bill's  help.  The  river  does  seem  all- 
fired  scary  when  you  look  at  it. 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  137 

"  Well  done,  men !"  he  called  to  the  drivers, 
when  the  last  mule  had  been  dragged  out. 

" We'll  camp  right  over  there  in  that  level 
spot.  Get  a  good  rest  and  a  long  sleep,  for 
to-morrow  evening  we  start  on  the  long  pull 
for  the  Cimarron." 


CHAPTEE  XIII 

THE  LONG  DRY  ROUTE 

THE  men  were  impatient  to  be  off  in 
the  morning,  although,  they  knew 
well  that  at  this  camp  they  had  to 
change  their  usual  order  of  march. 

If  they  started  in  the  morning  they  would 
be  two  days  and  a  night  on  the  long  dry 
stretch.  Exposing  the  stock  twice  to  the 
heat  and  dry  wind  of  midday  without  water 
would  have  been  fatal  to  many  of  the 
animals.  In  order  to  make  it  possible  for 
the  oxen  and  mules  to  travel  thirty-six  hours 
without  water  in  the  hot  and  dry  air,  the 
trains  always  left  the  Arkansas  in  the  after 
noon  and  traveled  two  nights  and  a  day, 
making  use  of  the  cooler  hours  of  the  night 
when  the  animals  suffered  much  less  for 
want  of  water. 

The  boys  felt  by  this  time  that  they  were 

138 


THE  SILVER  CACHE  139 

indeed  a  long,  long  way  from  home.  It  was 
about  six  weeks  since  they  had  bade  good- 
by  to  their  mother  and  Uncle  Jethro,  but  the 
time  seemed  very  much  longer.  They  were 
in  fine  health  and  thoroughly  hardened  to  the 
rough  life  on  the  trail.  To  sleep  on  the  hard 
ground  after  being  in  the  saddle  all  day  was 
no  longer  a  hardship,  and  Ted  was  getting 
along  finely  on  two  meals  a  day,  for  which  he 
always  had  a  keen  appetite.  The  only  thing 
that  marred  their  happiness  was  the  fact  that 
they  had  learned  so  little  news  of  their  father. 
No  friendly  Indians  had  come  into  camp  who 
might  have  brought  some  news,  and  they  had 
met  no  train  or  wagons  from  Santa  Fe.  The 
great  prairie  world  seemed  an  endless  soli 
tude  except  for  the  wild  animals  and  lurking 
savage  Indians. 

About  three  in  the  afternoon  the  herders 
brought  in  the  stock  and  the  Captain  gave  the 
order  to  hitch  up. 

For  miles  and  miles  the  train  struggled 
through  that  strange  belt  of  sand-dunes 
where  the  heavy  wheels  sank  in  so  deep  that 


140  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

the  draft  animals  had  to  use  all  their  power 
to  pull  the  loads. 

The  sand-hills  extend  for  hundreds  of  miles 
along  the  south  side  of  the  Arkansas.  In 
most  places  they  are  only  about  three  miles 
wide,  but  opposite  the  Cimarron  Crossing 
they  extend  almost  the  whole  distance  from 
the  Arkansas  valley  to  the  Cimarron. 

Many  of  the  smaller  streams  of  western 
Kansas  never  reach  the  Arkansas.  Although 
they  start  as  vigorous,  lively  creeks,  they 
finally  spread  out  and  just  sink  away  in  the 
sands  and  gravel  of  the  prairie.  On  the 
south  side  of  the  Arkansas  Beaver  Creek,  a 
very  considerable  stream,  fades  away  among 
the  sand-hills  near  a  place  known  as  the  Lost 
Well. 

The  boys  had  had  plenty  of  time  to  explore 
the  sand-dunes  which  had  for  so  many  miles 
followed  the  green  valley  of  the  river  like 
snowdrifts.  And  as  if  they  were  made  of 
snow,  the  wind,  which  had  blown  the  sand  up 
from  the  river  bed,  kept  ever  and  ever  chang 
ing  and  carving  the  dunes  into  a  fantastic 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  141 

confusion  of  ridges,  mounds  and  hillocks,  now 
burying,  now  resurrecting  the  few  grasses 
and  bushes  which  were  bravely  trying  to  bind 
the  loose  sand  together  and  cover  it  with  a 
sward  of  green. 

No  birds  and  no  game  were  to  be  seen,  but 
a  few  large  vicious  rattlesnakes  they  found 
basking  in  the  sun. 

"I  suppose  he's  boiling  his  poison, "  com 
mented  Burley  when  they  came  upon  a  big 
fellow. 

" Why  don't  you  shoot  him?"  asked  Ted. 

"  Can't  spare  the  powder,"  Burley 
laughed.  "We  may  need  it  worse  for  In 
dians.  ' ' 

Beyond  the  sand-dunes  there  was  not  a 
bush  or  tree  to  be  seen  anywhere,  and  the 
boys  felt  a  sense  of  homesickness  and  of  awe 
creep  over  them,  as  one  feels  when  for  the 
first  time  he  sails  out  of  sight  of  land.  Up 
to  this  time  they  had  crossed  many  wooded 
creeks.  Much  of  the  time  the  Arkansas 
River  with  its  scattered  groves  and  the 
fantastic  ridge  of  the  sandhills  had  been  in 


142  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

view  and  had  given  the  eyes  of  the  travelers 
something  to  rest  on. 

But  now  the  open,  unbroken  prairie  spread 
out  before  them;  vast,  boundless,  until  far, 
far  away,  both  trail  and  plain  touched  the 
sky-line. 

For  mile  after  mile  the  train  wound  along. 
Bands  of  antelopes  stood  in  the  distance  gaz 
ing  at  the  strange  spectacle.  The  comical  in 
habitants  of  the  prairie-dog  villages,  that 
were  eating  their  evening  meal  of  grass, 
stopped  long  enough  to  gaze  and  chatter  at 
the  intruders  of  their  solitude.  The  odd  bur 
rowing  owl,  which  Ted  had  at  first  mistaken 
for  a  meadow-lark,  rolled  its  weird  greeting, 
and  a  few  ugly  rattlesnakes,  which  like  the 
owls  have  forced  their  company  upon  the 
little  dog  people,  still  lay  coiled  up  on  the 
warm  mounds. 

The  boys  wondered  where  the  prairie-dogs 
found  water,  when  their  villages  were  located 
many  miles  from  any  stream.  Burley  did 
not  know. 

"Perhaps,"  he  thought,  "they  dig  wells 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  143 

down  to  ground  water,  or  they  lick  the  dew 
or,  may  be,  they  do  not  need  to  drink  like  men 
and  cattle." 

An  hour  later  the  sun  had  sunk  into  the 
prairie.  The  mounds  in  the  prairie-dog  vil 
lages  lay  deserted;  for  the  funny  little 
animals  had  gone  to  sleep  in  their  burrows ; 
and  the  few  gray  owls  which  seemed  to  be 
standing  on  guard,  increased  the  impression 
of  solitude  and  loneliness  of  the  plains. 

For  the  men  and  animals  in  the  train  there 
would  be  no  sleep  to-night.  They  must  push 
on,  push  on,  to  reach  water,  or  oxen  and 
mules  would  perish  with  thirst. 

The  stars  came  out  and  the  hot  south  wind 
of  the  afternoon  gave  place  to  a  delightful 
coolness,  while  packs  of  coyotes  and  gray 
wolves  yapped  and  howled  far  and  near. 

The  wagon-master,  who  had  been  riding 
ahead  of  the  train  came  galloping  back  and 
told  the  drivers  to  bring  up  the  rear  teams. 

" These  gray  wolves,"  he  said,  "generally 
mean  buffaloes,  and  buffaloes  may  mean 
Indians." 


144  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

About  midnight  the  wagon-master  ordered 
a  halt.  The  cooks  quickly  emptied  their 
sacks  of  buffalo  chips  which  the  men  had  been 
picking  up  in  the  afternoon.  In  a  very  short 
time  coffee-pots  were  boiling  and  groups  of 
men  gathered  around  small  glowing  fires  for 
a  light  midnight  meal. 

The  mules  and  oxen  had  not  been  un 
hitched,  and  within  an  hour  the  train  was 
again  following  the  dim  trail  southwestward 
towards  the  Cimarron. 

The  men  had  hoped  that  the  next  day  might 
be  cloudy,  but  the  sun  rose  on  a  clear  sky, 
for  cloudy  days  in  summer  are  rare  on  the 
plains. 

The  train  did  not  stop  for  rest  or  breakfast, 
because  they  could  not  lose  any  time  out  of 
the  cool  hours  of  the  morning.  As  the  sun 
rose  higher,  the  hot  drying  wind  from  the 
southwest  sprang  up  again,  causing  both  men 
and  beast  to  suffer  with  thirst  and  fatigue. 

At  the  approach  of  noon,  some  of  the 
animals  began  to  pant  and  show  signs  of 
exhaustion,  but  with  calls  and  whip  the 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  145 

drivers  urged  them  on,  for  the  distance  to  the 
Cimarron  had  not  been  half  covered. 

Early  in  the  afternoon  the  train  halted  and 
there  was  another  light  meal  and  coffee  for 
the  men,  but  for  the  animals  there  was  noth 
ing  but  a  short  rest.  Some  stood  panting 
with  dull  eyes  and  lowered  heads  against  the 
winds ;  all  were  too  thirsty  to  graze  and  some 
lay  down  utterly  exhausted. 

The  men  could  refresh  themselves  from 
water-casks  they  had  filled  at  the  river,  but 
for  the  animals  it  was  impossible  to  carry 
water. 

" Don't  eat  too  much,"  Burley  cautioned 
the  boys.  "A  man  does  not  travel  well  on  a 
full  stomach.  The  hardest  stretch  of  twelve 
hours  is  still  ahead  of  us." 

After  the  exhausted  cattle  and  mules  had 
been  replaced  by  others,  the  caravan  again 
took  the  trail. 

" Don't  let  any  of  the  loose  stock  lie  down," 
Captain  Harley  warned  the  boys.  "If  they 
once  get  stiff  you  can't  get  them  up  again. 
Keep  them  going  with  the  train." 


146  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

For  the  second  time  the  sun  disappeared 
and  the  stars  came  out,  bringing  some  relief 
to  the  tortured  animals.  Coyotes  and  wolves 
again  made  their  dismal  music,  which  to 
gether  with  the  bleached  bones  of  cattle  and 
mules  passed  again  and  again,  served  as  grim 
warnings  of  the  fate  of  man  and  beast  falling 
sick  or  exhausted  on  the  trail. 

Sheer  endless  was  the  distance,  and  inter 
minably  the  hours  dragged  and  dragged. 
The  men  plodded  along  half-dazed  with  a 
wabbling  gait,  for  it  was  the  second  night  that 
they  had  not  closed  an  eye  for  sleep. 

"Ted,  are  you  getting  sleepy!"  asked 
Burley,  who  with  the  two  boys  was  bringing 
up  the  loose  stock ;  but  Ted  did  not  answer. 

"Ted,  wake  up!  Pinch  yourself !"  called 
Philip.  "You'll  fall  off  and  the  coyotes  will 
chaw  you  up." 

"Yes,  all  right,  Phil,"  Ted  answered  in  a 
startled  manner.  "I  guess  I'll  get  off  and 
walk  a  while  with  Old  Bill.  I'll  take  hold  of 
his  horn." 

Soon  after  midnight  the  train  began  to 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  147 

straggle  out,  until  the  first  team  was  more 
than  a  mile  ahead  of  the  last  one. 

The  wagon-master  rode  up  to  the  first 
team;  "Jack,"  he  called  to  the  driver,  "what 
are  you  driving  so  fast  for!  You  have  the 
train  strung  out  for  two  miles ! ' ' 

1  '  Captain, ' '  returned  Jack.  "  I  'm  not  driv 
ing  at  all.  My  whip  is  on  the  wagon.  The 
oxen  are  smelling  the  water,  and  we  must  be 
within  five  or  six  miles  of  the  Cimarron. ' ' 

"I  guess  you  are  right, "  Harley  replied, 
"but  you  had  better  stop  a  while.  I  don't 
like  to  have  the  teams  string  out  so  much!" 

About  three  in  the  morning  Jack  called 
back:  "Wa-ter,  wa-ter!"  and  the  cry  was 
quickly  passed  along  the  whole  line. 

It  would  have  been  impossible  to  cross  the 
stream  with  the  famished  animals,  so  camp 
was  made  on  the  near  bank.  As  quickly  as 
possible  the  drivers  unhitched  the  frantic 
oxen  and  mules,  which  ran  madly  into  the 
river.  The  drivers  of  the  last  two  wagons 
lost  control  of  their  oxen  and  the  thirst- 
tortured  animals  rushed  madly  into  the 


148  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

Cimarron,  wagon  and  all,  but  as  the  river  was 
shallow  no  damage  was  done. 

It  was  but  a  short  time  before  the  cooks 
called,  "Breakfast!"  However,  most  of  the 
men,  including  Ted  and  Philip,  as  soon  as 
camp  was  reached,  had  rolled  up  in  their 
blankets  and  crept  under  their  buffalo  robes, 
craving  rest  and  sleep  much  more  than  food. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

A  COMANCHE  SUEPBISB 

THE  long  "Roll  out,  roll  out!"  did  not 
sound  at  the  Cimarron  Camp  at  sun 
rise,  because  nobody  except  Shawnee 
Pete  and  Fleming  who  had  slept  on  the 
journey,  opened  an  eye  till  noon. 

Shawnee  Pete  turned  the  cattle  down 
stream  where  the  best  grass  seemed  to  be, 
and  Fleming  with  his  gun  on  his  shoulder, 
strolled  slowly  around  the  camp,  for  he  was 
the  only  man  on  guard  duty  till  noon. 

By  noon  the  whole  camp  was  astir.  There 
were  no  vacant  places  at  the  several  mess- 
fires,  and  the  men  made  up  for  the  breakfast 
they  had  missed. 

"Phil,  I'm  so  starved,"  said  Ted.  "I 
think  I  could  eat  a  whole  buffalo  calf." 

"Eat  all  you  want,  but  take  your  time  for 

149 


150  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

it,  Sonny,"  Burley  told  him.  "We  do  not 
leave  this  camp  till  to-morrow,  so  you  can 
lie  around  all  day  unless  you  prefer  to  run 
down  an  antelope." 

"Not  I,"  Ted  assured  his  friend.  "I'm 
still  tired,  and  Blaekie  needs  a  rest  more  than 
I  do.  His  feet  are  getting  so  sore  that  I 
shall  have  to  make  moccasins  for  him  pretty 
soon." 

At  daylight  next  morning  it  was  found  that 
ten  mules,  including  a  big  gray  ox,  known  as, 
the  roamer,  were  missing. 

"Pete,  what  have  you  been  doing  again?" 
exclaimed  the  Captain.  "Where  are  these 
mules  1 ' ' 

But  Pete  assured  the  Captain  that  he  had 
kept  the  herd  well  rounded  up  all  night  and 
that  he  remembered  now  that  he  had  not  seen 
the  roamer  since  the  day-herders  had  turned 
the  stock  over  to  him. 

Whoever  was  to  blame,  the  mules  were 
gone  and  an  effort  had  to  be  made  to  recover 
them. 

"Eat    your    breakfast,    men!"     Harley 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  151 

ordered.  '  'In  the  meantime  Philip  and  I  will 
look  for  them  up-stream.  Jim,  you  and  Ted 
look  for  them  down-stream." 

Burley  and  Ted  started  at  a  brisk  gallop 
down  the  Cimarron  and  had  soon  vanished 
around  a  bend  in  the  valley.  They  rode  as 
far  as  the  stock  had  grazed,  but  saw  no  sign 
of  mules. 

"Here,"  called  Ted,  "are  tracks  going 
down-stream.  That's  where  they  have 
gone!"  and  both  men  rode  quickly  forward 
anxious  to  overtake  the  strayed  stock  as 
soon  as  possible. 

Not  a  living  thing  was  in  sight.  To  their 
right  and  left  lines  of  steep  rock  walls,  almost 
bare,  marked  the  Cimarron  Valley,  which  in 
this  region  is  about  two  miles  wide. 

Every  river  has  its  own  face  and  character, 
so  to  speak,  and  in  its  bare  and  rocky  bluffs 
the  Cimarron  differs  from  every  other  river 
in  the  world. 

"We  ought  to  see  the  beasts  behind  the 
next  bend  of  rocks,"  Burley  just  remarked, 
when  suddenly,  without  the  slightest  warn- 


152  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

ing,  half  a  dozen  Indians  sprang  up  behind 
some  bushes  and  tall  grass.  Two  of  them 
snatched  the  guns  of  the  horsemen,  some 
seized  the  bridles  of  the  horses,  and  before 
the  riders  realized  what  had  happened,  they 
were  pulled  off  their  horses,  helpless  cap 
tives. 

Ted  was  speechless  with  fright,  but 
Burley  calmly  called  to  him:  "Make  a  bold 
face,  boy!  Make  them  think  you  like  it! 
We 're  caught!" 

A  big  Indian  raised  his  tomahawk  over 
Burley:  " Texas !"  he  asked.  "No,"  an 
swered  the  white  man  boldly,  "American! 
Missouri,  Independence!" 

"Comanche?"  asked  Burley,  who  under 
stood  a  little  of  that  language  because  it  was 
the  trade  language  of  the  Plains  Indians. 

"Yes,  Comanche!"  replied  the  leader. 
' '  Look  for  Texas.  Scalp  him  all ! " 

After  this  brief  talk  the  leader  had  a  con 
sultation  with  his  men,  after  which  two  of  the 
Indians  mounted  the  ponies  and  made 
Burley  and  Ted  walk  between  them. 


OP  THE  PAWNEE  153 

In  this  way  they  traveled  several  miles 
down  the  river,  when  they  came  upon  about 
twenty  Indians  with  their  ponies  and  the 
missing  mules  of  the  traders,  concealed  be 
hind  some  low  trees.  Some  members  of  this 
war  party  had  stolen  the  mules  without  the 
herders  becoming  aware  of  it.  The  leader 
had  then  sent  out  scouts  to  spy  out  the 
strength,  and  probable  wealth  of  the 
caravan.  To  their  own  surprise  they  had 
caught  two  of  the  men  of  the  caravan  and  had 
brought  them  in  without  doing  any  more 
scouting. 

There  was  the  wildest  joy  when  the  two 
captives  came  in.  The  Indians  yelled,  swung 
their  tomahawks  and  asked  in  a  ferocious 
manner:  " Texas,  Texas?7' 

To  these  apparently  murderous  inquiries 
Burley  calmly  replied  in  the  Indian  sign 
language  by  making  the  sign  of  a  crawling 
snake,  which  to  all  the  plains  tribes  meant 
"Comanche."  At  the  same  time  Burley 
pulled  a  small  plug  of  tobacco  out  of  his 
pocket  and  handed  it  to  the  war  chief. 


154  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

The  compliment  Burley  had  paid  them  by 
calling  himself  a  Comanche,  and  the  gift  of 
tobacco  to  their  chief  put  the  Indians  in  good 
humor  and  they  apparently  gave  up  the  plan 
of  killing  their  captives  at  once. 

They  now  consulted  as  to  whether  they 
should  rob  the  train  of  the  Americans. 
Burley  knew  that  at  this  time  the  Comanches 
were  not  acquainted  with  the  power  of  Ameri 
can  firearms,  but  he  also  knew  that  these 
wild,  desperate  horsemen  might  harass  the 
train  for  days  and  probably  kill  a  number  of 
the  men,  so  he  quickly  decided  on  a  bold  plan 
to  thwart  their  design. 

He  told  them  by  such  words  as  he  knew 
and  by  signs  that  the  American  captain  and 
his  men  were  very  brave  and  had  such  deadly 
guns  that  many  Comanches  would  be  killed. 
To  substantiate  his  statements,  he  suggested 
that  his  little  son  should  fire  his  gun  at  a 
stump. 

"My  little  son,"  he  added,  "cannot  shoot 
like  a  man,  but  we  shall  see  what  he  can  do." 

"That  stump?"  asked  Ted,  who  had  by 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  155 

this  time  gotten  over  his  fright;  "I  can  hit 
that  with  my  eyes  closed." 

The  Comanches  at  once  agreed  to  this  plan 
and  a  number  of  them  shot  their  arrows  at 
the  stump,  hut  all  of  them  fell  short  of  the 
mark. 

"Step  back  about  ten  yards, "  Burley  told 
Ted,  "before  you  fire." 

Ted  took  a  quick  aim,  there  was  a  sharp 
crack,  and  the  splinters  flew  right  and  left 
from  the  stump. 

The  Comanches,  like  a  crowd  of  school 
boys,  ran  over  to  examine  Ted's  target,  and 
were  much  surprised  at  the  big  hole  the  bul 
let  had  torn  clear  through  the  stump.  But 
their  respect  for  the  American  gun  grew  still 
more,  when  one  of  them  found  the  bullet 
deeply  embedded  in  a  green  cottonwood  some 
ten  yards  behind  the  stump. 

"My  little  son,"  Burley  repeated  as  if  to 
offer  an  excuse  for  Ted's  shooting,  "is  not  a 
good  marksman,  but  the  American  captain 
and  his  men  are  dead  shots  and  their  guns 
are  very  big."  » 


156  THE  SILVEE  CACHE 

The  'Comanches  now  said  no  more  about 
attacking  the  American  train,  but  they 
wanted  Burley  to  show  how  he  could  shoot. 
However,  Burley  told  them  that  he  and  his 
son  had  but  little  ammunition,  that  they 
wished  to  use  it  to  shoot  buffalo  and  antelope 
near  the  big  camp  of  his  Comanche  friends 
on  the  Canadian  Eiver  to  the  south. 

At  this  statement  the  Indians  at  first 
looked  at  each  other  in  silence.  Then  the 
chief  said:  "The  white  Comanche  is  a 
medicine  man.  His  spirit  can  see  farther 
than  his  eyes.  We  must  not  harm  him  and 
his  young  son." 


CHAPTER  XV 

A   TROUBLED   WAGON-MASTER 

CAPTAIN  HAELEY,  who  was  a  good 
tracker,  soon  found  that  the  lost 
mules  had  not  gone  up-stream.  He 
and  Philip  on  their  return  sat  down  quietly 
to  breakfast  with  the  men,  expecting  every 
moment  to  see  Burley  and  Ted  come  around 
a  bend  in  the  river  valley.  When  two  hours 
had  passed,  both  the  Captain  and  Philip  could 
suppress  their  anxiety  no  longer. 

Harley  told  his  men  frankly  that  he  feared 
something  had  happened  to  Burley  and  Ted, 
and  that  he  and  Philip  would  go  after  them. 
He  ordered  the  men  to  keep  the  stock  in  the 
corral  until  his  return,  and  placed  one  of  the 
older  drivers  in  command. 

It  did  not  take  the  two  men  long  to  find 
the  trail  of  Burley  and  Ted.  When  they 
came  to  the  spot,  where  the  Indians  had 

157 


158  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

sprung  upon  the  two  men,  Harley  at  once 
saw  from  the  trampled  condition  of  the  grass 
that  something  had  happened  at  that  spot, 
so  both  he  and  Philip  dismounted  to  examine 
the  place.  At  first  they  stood  still  a  few 
minutes,  sharply  looking  over  the  place  with 
out  disturbing  a  blade  or  stick. 

"  Great  Heavens!"  murmured  Harley. 
"Phil,  there  were  four  or  five  Indians  con 
cealed  here." 

"Are  you  sure  that  they  were  not  deer  or 
antelope?"  asked  Philip. 

"Absolutely  sure,"  asserted  Harley. 
"There  is  not  a  hair  or  fresh  sign  of  an 
animal  on  the  spot.  The  beds  in  the  grass 
were  made  by  Indians. 

"Now  look  for  signs  of  a  fight,  but  keep 
your  hand  on  your  gun.  We  may  stop  an  ar 
row  any  moment." 

Both  looked  the  whole  place  over  with  the 
greatest  care. 

"Not  a  sign  of  struggle,  not  a  drop  of 
blood  on  the  grass  anywhere,"  whispered  the 
Captain.  "Think  of  Burley,  the  best  Indian- 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  159 

fighter  in  the  train  and  one  of  the  bravest 
men  I  ever  knew,  being  taken  without  a 
fight!  The  red  rascals  surely  worked  the 
game  of  surprise  to  a  finish. " 

The  men  remounted  and  followed  the  trail 
a  little  farther. 

"We  had  better  stick  to  our  horses/'  ad 
vised  Harley,  "so  we  can  make  a  race  for 
camp  if  we  run  up  against  too  many  of 
them/' 

It  was  not  long  before  they  came  to  a  place, 
where  a  small  herd  of  ponies  had  stopped  and 
turned  back. 

"There  is  the  story!"  Harley  exclaimed 
under  his  breath.  "A  war-party  of  twenty- 
five  or  thirty  Comanches.  The  men  that 
captured  Burley  and  Ted  crawled  ahead  on 
foot,  and  the  others  with  the  horses  and  the 
stolen  mules  hid  in  the  timber  down  yonder, 
and  that  is  where  they  took  Burley  and  Ted." 

6  '  Do  you  think  they  are  still  there  ? ' '  asked 
Philip.  "What  in  the  world  can  we  do?" 

"Let  us  see,"  the  Captain  answered,  ignor 
ing  Philip's  last  question.  "They  may  still 


160  THE  SILVEE  CACHE 

be  hiding  in  that  timber  waiting  for  more  of 
us  to  walk  into  their  trap.  They  may  be 
planning  to  attack  our  train,  but  I  think 
Burley,  if  he  is  still  alive,  will  keep  them 
from  that  by  some  kind  of  a  ruse.  He  is  the 
greatest  man  for  quick  thinking  and  acting 
in  the  face  of  great  danger/' 

For  a  short  time  the  speaker  was  silent. 

"It  is  most  probable, "  he  began  again, 
"that  they  lit  out  after  they  had  brought  in 
their  captives.  A  bunch  of  mules  and  two 
captives  without  losing  a  man  makes  a  nice 
little  exploit  to  brag  about. 

' '  Let  us  see.  It  was  about  four  hours  ago 
that  they  trapped  our  two  unlucky  friends. 
By  this  time  they  are  most  likely  twenty 
miles  away  down  the  Cimarron  or  across  the 
prairie  to  their  main  camp.  There  will  be 
heap  powwow,  feasting  and  dancing,  and 
heap  big  talk. 

"Confound  the  rogues!  The  government 
ought  to  send  out  enough  soldiers  to  chase 
them  all  into  the  mountains  or  into  Mexico. 

"That  one  company  of  soldiers  the  gov- 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  161 

eminent  keeps  at  Fort  Leavenworth  can  do 
nothing.  To  enforce  law  and  order  in  this 
region  enough  men  are  needed  to  hunt  down 
white  and  red  criminals  alike." 

"But,  Captain,"  said  Philip,  eagerly  tak 
ing  up  again  the  question  uppermost  in  his 
mind,  "what  can  we  do?  What  can  I  do  to 
get  Ted  back?" 

"Philip,  my  boy,  you  can't  do  a  thing! 
Not  a  thing!"  Harley  answered  with  a 
faltering  voice.  "If  I  took  half  the  men  of 
the  train,  the  others  would  be  too  weak  to  re 
sist  an  attack.  By  to-morrow  morning  these 
thieves  will  have  fifty  or  sixty  miles  the  start 
of  us.  They  will  travel  through  the  night, 
you  see,  but  we  can't  trail  them  after  dark. 

"And  then,  Phil,  it  would  not  do  a  bit  of 
good  to  follow  them.  The  Comanches  have 
two  or  three  thousand  warriors,  and  we 
would  just  be  riding  into  the  face  of  death, 
or  into  captivity. 

"I  have  no  choice,  anyway.  I  must  go  on 
with  the  train,  and  you  have  no  choice  but  to 
come  with  us." 


162  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

"Captain,  I  can't  do  it!  I  can't  do  it!" 
Philip  cried.  "I  promised  Mother  to  look 
after  my  small  brother,  and  I  can't  go  back 
without  him!" 

"Be  wise,  Phil,  and  trust  Ted  to  Burley. 
Jim  will  think  out  some  kind  of  a  ruse  to  save 
his  and  Ted's  scalp.  He  got  away  from  the 
Cheyennes  several  years  ago.  Some  day  he 
will  give  the  Comanches  the  slip,  and  he  will 
not  come  back  without  Ted.  He  lost  a  son 
about  Ted's  age  and  he  loves  Ted  as  if  he 
were  his  own  son." 

But  Philip  would  not  be  persuaded. 

"No,  Captain,"  he  replied,  "I  can't.  I 
must  go  where  Ted  is.  I  could  never  face 
my  mother  or  father,  if  I  did  not. 

' l  You  must  go  back  to  the  train,  and  I  must 
follow  the  trail  of  the  Comanches. 

"If  I  ride  hard,  I  may  catch  up  with  them 
before  dark." 

"No,  you  cannot  go  this  way,"  Captain 
Harley  objected  decisively.  "I  shall  not  let 
you.  You  must  come  back  to  camp  with  me 
to  get  some  food,  your  blankets,  and  plenty 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  163 

of  ammunition.  You  don't  want  to  be  help 
less  or  starve  on  the  prairie.  You  come  and 
get  those  things,  and  then  go,  if  you  must." 

The  excitement  in  camp  may  be  imagined, 
when  the  two  men  returned  and  told  what 
had  happened. 

Philip  packed  up  the  few  things  he  ex 
pected  to  need  most,  and  the  Captain  gave 
orders  for  the  train  to  hitch  up  and  start  as 
soon  as  possible. 

"Captain,"  the  men  told  him,  "you  are  not 
going  to  leave  the  camp  again.  We  were  all 
getting  terribly  worried,  and  some  of  us 
were  just  going  after  you." 

"Put  some  holes  through  them,  Phil! 
We'll  see  you  with  a  bunch  of  scalps  in 
Santa  Fe!"  and  other  rough  banter  the  men 
called  out  to  Philip  when,  in  a  sad  but  deter 
mined  mood,  he  headed  his  pony  down  the 
Cimarron  to  follow  the  trail  of  the  Comanche 
warriors. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

ON  THE   TRAIL   OF   THE    COMANCHES 

4 

PHILIP  had  not  given  up  hope  of  over 
taking  the  captors  or  his  brother  be 
fore  dark,  so  he  let  the  pony  have 
the  reins  to  go  as  fast  as  he  wished. 

The  lad  was  not  trying  now  to  avoid  cap 
ture  and  traveled  without  any  attempt  to 
conceal  himself.  When  he  approached  the 
grove,  where  according  to  the  correct  surmise 
of  Captain  Harley,  the  Indians  had  taken 
their  captives,  he  hoped  that  he  might  find 
them  still  there. 

He  rode  up  slowly  thinking  that  according 
to  the  customs  of  the  plains,  he  might  be 
asked  to  stop  at  a  distance  to  declare,  whether 
he  came  as  friend  or  foe. 

However,  there  came  no  call.  He  stopped, 
and  listened,  his  heart  beating  louder  and 
faster.  Perhaps  they  were  waiting  for  him 

164 


THE  SILVER  CACHE  165 

in  ambush  and  he  would  receive  an  arrow  or 
a  bullet.  Turning  these  possibilities  over  in 
his  mind,  he  rode  cautiously  through  some 
low  brush  into  the  grove. 

The  place  was  deserted,  showing  signs  of 
hasty  departure.  He  rode  carefully  around 
the  edge  of  the  open  place  where  the  grass 
had  been  trampled  down.  It  occurred  to  him 
with  horror  that  the  Indians  might  have 
killed  their  captives  or  left  them  for  dead  in 
the  brush  and  tall  grass.  He  called  Ted's 
and  Burley's  names  aloud.  No  answer  came 
to  his  call,  not  even  an  echo  returned  from 
the  wide  and  flat  valley.  It  seemed  to  Philip 
that  he  had  never  been  in  a  place  so  lonesome 
and  uncanny. 

He  rode  on,  following  the  broad  trail  down 
the  valley.  The  sun  stood  blazing  hot  over 
the  river  and  plains,  there  was  no  stir  of  bird 
or  beast,  only  the  cottonwood  leaves  fluttered 
in  the  hot  wind. 

All  afternoon  the  lad  followed  the  trail. 
Every  time  he  turned  a  bend  in  the  valley, 
he  expected  to  see  the  group  of  Comanche 


166  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

warriors,  and  every  time  there  spread  out 
again  before  him  the  monotonous  stretch  of 
bare  rocky  walls,  valley,  and  river.  His 
horse  began  to  sweat,  and  he  led  him  to  the 
river  for  a  drink. 

What  was  that?  Again  his  heart  seemed 
trying  to  jump  into  his  throat.  Half  a  mile 
down  stream  the  Indians  were  just  crossing 
the  river.  No,  there  were  only  ponies.  The 
Indians  must  be  driving  them  and  were  com 
ing  on  behind.  He  urged  his  pony  to  a 
gallop,  but  slackened  when  he  came  close  to 
the  spot.  Were  his  eyes  deceiving  him. 
The  small  herd  of  ponies  were  standing  in 
the  river,  but  what  had  become  of  the  In 
dians?  Were  they  hiding  to  shoot  at  him 
from  ambush?  Now  a  fine  white  stallion 
came  out  of  the  herd  and  neighed  a  greeting, 
or  was  it  a  challenge  to  Philip 's  pony,  that 
answered  the  call,  as  if  glad  at  meeting  some 
of  his  own  people;  and  Philip  realized  that 
the  white  stallion  was  the  leader  of  a  small 
herd  of  wild  ponies  and  that  he  had  not  over 
taken  any  Indians. 


."' 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  167 

He  was  both  glad  and  disappointed.  It 
had  flashed  through  his  mind  that  he  might 
fall  into  the  hands  of  a  Pawnee  war  party 
who  would  take  him  out  of  the  Comanche 
country  altogether,  so  he  was  glad  that  the 
ponies  carried  no  Pawnee  warriors. 

He  continued  his  journey  down  the  river, 
but  it  was  becoming  more  difficult  to  follow 
the  trail,  because  herds  of  buffaloes  and 
droves  of  wild  horses  had  also  crossed  and 
followed  this  part  of  the  river.  However,  he 
saw  no  game  except  two  deer  at  which  he  did 
not  fire  for  he  carried  enough  dried  buffalo 
meat  to  last  him,  as  he  thought,  a  day  or  two. 
He  followed  the  trail  until  sunset,  when  it 
quickly  grew  too  dark  to  travel. 

Seeing  that  he  would  be  compelled  to  make 
camp  for  the  night,  he  took  his  pony  to  water 
and  then  staked  him  carefully  on  an  open 
grassy  spot,  after  which  he  built  a  fire  under 
a  tall  cottonwood  close  by. 

He  felt  very  grateful  that  Captain  Harley 
had  made  him  take  a  supply  of  tea,  sugar, 
coffee,  and  meat  as  well  as  a  little  flour,  a 


168  THE  SILVEE  CACHE 

frying-pan,  a  tin  cup,  and  a  small  kettle.  He 
felt  now  both  hungry  and  tired,  for  he  had 
eaten  almost  nothing  for  breakfast,  and  the 
excitement  and  the  strain  of  following  the 
trail  had  greatly  fatigued  him  and  depressed 
his  spirits.  At  a  quick  fire  of  dry  sticks  he 
baked  a  small  cake  and  fried  it  in  buffalo  fat, 
and  this  with  dried  meat  and  a  liberal  draught 
of  sweet  tea  revived  his  fagging  strength  and 
drooping  spirits.  The  meal  over,  he  re 
plenished  his  lone  camp  fire  with  some  larger 
pieces  of  wood  and  then  sat  leaning  against 
the  tree,  thinking  over  the  events  of  the  day 
and  making  his  plans  for  the  morrow. 

The  silence  of  the  night  and  the  loneliness 
of  his  camp  oppressed  him.  There  was  not 
even  the  doleful  howling  of  wolves  and 
coyotes,  only  the  crackling  of  his  fire,  a  low 
gurgling  of  the  river  against  the  roots  of  the 
tree,  and  the  munching  and  occasional  snort 
ing  of  the  pony.  The  absence  of  wolves  and 
coyotes  could  only  mean  that  there  were  no 
buffaloes  or  Indian  camps  for  many  miles 
around. 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  169 

Very  soon  he  began  to  feel  drowsy.  He 
laid  down  his  saddle  in  place  for  a  pillow  and 
poured  a  kettleful  of  water  on  the  red  coals. 
Then  he  wrapped  himself  in  his  blanket  and 
pulled  the  buffalo  robe  over  his  head,  for  the 
night  air,  as  is  usual  on  the  plains,  was  grow 
ing  chilly. 

He  was  awakened  by  a  distant  rumbling 
and  a  loud  snort  of  his  pony.  When  he  threw 
back  the  buffalo  robe,  it  took  him  a  second  to 
realize  that  he  was  alone  on  the  Cimarron. 
The  night  had  grown  intensely  dark,  a  west 
erly  wind  had  sprung  up,  and  was  bringing 
a  shower  down  the  river. 

He  remembered  that  his  father  had  often 
warned  him  not  to  camp  or  stand  under  a  low 
tree  in  a  thunderstorm,  so  he  picked  up  his 
saddle  and  bedding  and  groped  his  way  to  an 
other  place  several  rods  away. 

It  was  not  long  before  the  storm  broke 
upon  him.  The  rain  came  down  in  a  pour 
and  through  a  peephole  under  his  robe  he 
saw  the  brush  and  grass  lit  up  by  white 
flashes  and  flares  of  lightning,  followed  by 


170  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

instant  crashes  and  long  rolls  of  thunder. 
Then  there  was  a  blinding  light,  immediately 
followed  by  a  crash  which  shook  the  ground 
under  him.  He  jumped  out  of  his  blankets 
and  ran  toward  his  pony.  The  animal  was 
still  there,  but  the  cottonwood  under  which 
the  lad  had  at  first  made  his  bed  had  been 
shattered,  and  lay  across  the  ashes  of  his 
camp  fire. 

He  crept  back  into  his  blankets,  but  they 
were  wet  and  for  the  remainder  of  the  night 
he  squirmed  this  way  and  that  way,  trying 
to  avoid  the  water-soaked  parts  of  his  hard 
bed. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

WHERE   WAS    KIO? 

WHEN  he  awoke  after  several 
hours  of  troubled  sleep,  his 
pony  was  gone. 

What  could  have  happened?  Perhaps  the 
animal  was  lying  down  in  the  brush?  He 
anxiously  looked  over  the  ground,  but  found 
to  his  horror  that  he  was  not  mistaken.  The 
pin  had  pulled  out  and  gone  were  lariat  and 
pony. 

How  on  earth  did  it  happen?  Did  some 
Indian  steal  the  horse  while  the  rider  was 
asleep?  He  remembered  trying  the  pin  and 
feeling  satisfied  that  it  would  hold.  But 
when  he  examined  the  ground  around  the  pin 
he  felt  satisfied  that  no  Indian  had  been  near 
it.  The  heavy  rain  had  softened  the  ground 
so  much,  that  a  little  strain  on  the  lariat  had 
pulled  the  pin. 

This  was  a  calamity.     Should  he  try  to  find 

171 


172  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

the  horse,  or  should  he  follow  the  Indian 
trail  on  foot  and  let  the  cursed  critter  go? 
He  had  always  felt  a  strong  attachment  for 
Kio,  but  he  surely  had  trusted  the  beast  too 
much.  Where  could  the  perverse  brute  have 
gone?  Had  he  joined  the  wild  ponies  or  had 
he  struck  out  after  his  long-eared  and  long- 
horned  friends  in  Captain  Harley's  train? 
If  at  this  moment  the  pony  had  been  where 
Philip  wished  him  to  be,  he  would  have 
burnt  to  a  crisp. 

6 ' Perhaps, "  thought  Philip,  "you  can't 
trust  these  Indian  ponies  any  more  than  you 
can  trust  the  Indians.  He  is  a  Kiowa  all 
right,  and  I'd  like  to  break  a  few  of  his  ribs. 
But  getting  mad  doesn't  help  me.  Where 
did  the  critter  go  ?  I  have  to  get  him ;  no  use 
trying  to  foot  it  after  the  Comanches." 

When  Philip  sat  down  to  think,  his  anger 
soon  cooled.  After  all  he  could  not  blame 
the  pony  so  much,  who  was  no  more  used  to 
being  staked  out  alone  all  night  than  his 
master  was  accustomed  to  camp  alone. 
There  was  little  doubt  that  he  had  taken  the 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  173 

back  trail  and  was  trying  to  rejoin  the  car 
avan.  If  one  could  only  know  when  he  broke 
away.  Perhaps  the  rope  or  the  pin  might 
have  caught  on  some  brush  and  stopped  the 
runaway. 

This  possibility  encouraged  Philip  so  much 
that  he  started  at  once  on  the  back  trail. 

When  he  had  gone  only  a  few  rods,  he 
stopped. 

"No,"  he  said  to  himself,  "this  won't  do. 
I'm  a  bigger  fool  than  Kio.  Being  alone  has 
rattled  my  head.  I  must  take  a  bite  to  eat, 
and  hide  my  stuff  before  I  go.  Indians  might 
come  along  and  take  my  bedding  and  saddle, 
and  then  I'd  be  in  another  mess.  But  I  must 
take  my  gun  and  ammunition  with  me." 

Philip  had  now  regained  his  self-control. 
He  would  at  first  follow  the  trail  slowly  and 
if  he  did  not  overtake  the  pony  or  found  him 
caught  on  some  bush,  he  could  increase  his 
speed.  In  the  meantime  he  would  look  for 
fresh  tracks,  so  as  to  make  sure  that  the 
animal  had  not  gone  off  in  some  other  direc 
tion  or  joined  a  band  of  wild  horses. 


174  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

An  hour  passed  without  the  lad  being  sure 
that  the  pony  had  started  back  for  the  car 
avan.  Then,  at  last,  the  trail  led  over  a  bare 
piece  of  ground  where  the  tracks  were  plainly 
visible  and  showed  that  he  had  been  going 
at  a  brisk  walk.  Philip  increased  his  speed, 
for  it  was  now  only  a  question  of  how  far  the 
runaway  might  be  ahead  of  him. 

"If  he  kept  on  walking,  or  fell  to  grazing 
on  the  way,"  Philip  reasoned,  "I  ought  to 
come  up  with  him  pretty  soon. ' '  Once  Philip 
thought  he  saw  the  pony  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
ahead,  quietly  grazing,  but  when  he  cau 
tiously  approached  the  bushes  behind  which 
the  animal  had  disappeared,  a  big  buck 
jumped  up  with  a  snort. 

At  noon  Philip  had  reached  the  camp 
where  he  had  left  the  train,  and  here  the 
pony's  tracks  were  very  plain,  but  he  had  ev 
idently  concluded  that  he  would  have  to  hurry 
to  catch  up  with  his  friends,  for  the  tracks 
showed  plainly  that  he  had  been  following 
the  caravan  on  a  run,  which  Philip  knew  he 
was  likely  to  keep  up  for  miles. 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  175 

The  lad  refreshed  himself  with  a  drink 
from  the  spring  and  threw  some  cold  water 
over  his  face.  He  had  an  idea  now  where 
he  would  find  that  pony.  He  was  strongly 
tempted  to  relieve  himself  of  his  gun  by  hid 
ing  it,  but  he  had  heard  old  plainsmen  speak 
so  often  of  the  folly  of  a  man  leaving  his  gun 
that  he  decided  to  lug  it  along,  although  it 
was  getting  awfully  heavy. 

The  plan  of  abandoning  the  pony  altogether 
occurred  to  him  again,  but  he  rejected  it, 
realizing  that  he  might  have  to  travel  hun 
dreds  of  miles  before  finding  a  Comanche 
camp. 

From  time  to  time  Philip  now  traveled 
at  a  dog  trot,  still  hoping  that  the  pony  might 
have  become  hungry  and  stopped  to  graze. 
About  three  hours  later  he  passed  the  place 
where  the  train  had  camped  the  previous 
night.  Here  one  of  the  oxen  had  died  or  had 
been  killed  for  some  reason,  and  coyotes  were 
already  picking  the  bones. 

Kio  had  swerved  off  the  trail,  and  Philip 
knew  where  he  would  find  him,  if  he  found 


176  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

him  at  all.  Some  of  the  jackals  of  the  plains 
came  trotting  toward  him  as  if  scenting  some 
more  fresh  meat,  but  when  the  lone  traveler 
fired  a  bullet  over  their  heads  the  whole  pack 
scattered  over  the  plain. 

The  sun  was  getting  low,  when  Philip  saw 
something  moving  on  the  trail  ahead  of  him. 
At  first  he  thought  it  was  a  wolf,  but  when 
the  creature  stood  out  against  the  sky  as  it 
passed  over  a  rise  of  ground  he  saw  that  it 
was  Kio.  When  the  lad  reached  the  ridge 
himself  he  saw  the  caravan  encamped  a  mile 
beyond. 

When  Philip  reached  the  camp,  Kio  was 
hobnobbing  with  his  mule  friends  and  the 
men  were  standing  around  watching  the  per 
formance. 

4 'By  Jove,  Phil,"  Captain  Harley  greeted 
him  with  a  twinkle  in  his  eyes,  "  you  're  a 
queer  traveler.  What's  the  use  of  driving 
him  to  camp?  Why  didn't  you  ride  him?" 

"I  guess,"  Philip  answered  rather  sheep- 
facedly,  "you  know,  Captain,  why  I  didn't. 
The  blasted  critter  gave  me  the  slip. ' ' 


CHAPTER  XVHI 

NO   TBAIL   AND   NO   WATER 

THE  men  in  camp  joked  a  good  deal 
about  him  and  Kio  having  had  a 
fall-out  and  each  traveling  by  him 
self,  but  they  nevertheless  pressed  him  to 
stay  overnight  with  them. 

"You  can't  catch  any  Comanches  in  the 
dark,"  they  said;  "and  you  ought  to  give  the 
good  little  pony  a  rest  and  a  chance  to  talk 
things  over  with  his  friends." 

Philip  could  do  nothing  else  but  take  the 
banter  good-naturedly.  "He  won't  give  me 
the  slip  again,"  was  about  all  he  could  say  in 
reply. 

By  this  time  a  smell  of  coffee  and  frying 
bacon  and  meat  filled  the  air;  and  Burley's 
cook  called  out : 

"Come  here,  Phil,  and  have  a  decent  meal 

177 


178  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

on  me.  I've  heard  that  the  Comanche  girls 
are  pretty  bum  cooks.  Serve  nothing  but 
dog  meat  to  a  white  man." 

This  invitation  Philip  accepted  without  de 
lay,  for  he  had  eaten  nothing  since  he  left 
his  own  camp,  and  he  had  walked  and  run 
about  thirty  miles. 

As  the  lad  fell  with  a  will  upon  the  food 
and  the  hot  coffee,  the  cook  looked  upon  him 
with  undisguised  amusement. 

"Tell  you  what,  Phil,"  he  commented, 
"you'll  make  a  good  Indian  runner  if  you 
just  keep  in  practice.  Thirty  miles  a  day 
isn't  so  bad  for  a  beginner.  If  you  just  keep 
at  it,  you'll  soon  make  a  hundred  miles  a 
day." 

"Well,  Fatty,"  the  lad  replied,  "I  don't 
expect  to  keep  it  up.  Old  Kio  won't  fool  me 
again;  I've  learned  my  lesson." 

When  the  caravan  started  next  morning, 
Philip  once  more  struck  out  on  the  trail  of  the 
Comanches. 

"I  hope  you  will  have  better  luck  this 
time,"  said  the  Captain  when  he  bade  the  lad 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  179 

farewell.  "  And  you  had  better  take  this  bag 
of  tobacco.  You  know  tobacco  is  big  med 
icine  with  all  the  Indians. " 

The  lad  was  compelled  to  camp  another 
night  at  the  place  where  he  had  left  his 
blankets  and  saddle,  but  before  he  lay  down 
to  sleep  he  tied  Kio  to  a  tree. 

When  he  tried  to  take  up  the  trail  in  the 
morning,  his  troubles  began.  The  trail  of 
the  Comanches  was  now  old,  the  rain  had 
practically  obliterated  it,  and  buffaloes  and 
wild  horses  had  passed  over  the  same  ground. 
The  lone  horseman  followed  it  a  little  way 
on  the  prairie  south  of  the  Cimarron  and 
then  lost  it  entirely.  He  rode  back  several 
times,  but  the  result  was  always  the  same. 
The  tracks  disappeared  amongst  a  maze  of 
trails  made  on  the  hard  prairie  by  buffaloes, 
wild  horses,  and  antelopes. 

Philip  knew  from  a  talk  with  Captain  Har- 
ley  that  about  twenty-five  miles  south  of  the 
Cimarron  ran  the  North  Fork  of  the  Can 
adian  Eiver,  while  from  thirty  to  fifty 
south  of  the  latter  he  would  strike  the  Can- 


180  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

adian  River  itself.  He  had  also  learned 
from  the  Captain  that  the  large  buffalo  herds 
were  most  likely  to  be  found  southwest  of 
the  place  where  he  had  camped,  in  the  coun 
try  now  in  western  Oklahoma  and  north 
western  Texas.  The  Indians  would  most 
likely  be  near  the  buffaloes,  but  there  was 
no  sure  way  of  telling  where  either  buffaloes 
or  Indians  might  be  found. 

"You  can  always  find  Indians  where  you 
don't  want  to  find  them,"  Harley  had  con 
cluded.  "I  should  say  they  have  a  camp 
somewhere  within  two  hundred  miles  up  or 
down  the  Canadian  River,  so  they  can  con 
veniently  make  raids  into  Texas  or  Mexico, 
or  do  a  little  friendly  stealing  and  killing  on 
the  Santa  Fe  Trail." 

When  the  lad  realized  that  he  had  hope 
lessly  lost  the  trail  of  the  Comanches  he  de 
cided  to  ride  on  in  a  southwesterly  direction. 
From  hour  to  hour  he  hoped  to  see  some  In 
dians,  but  the  whole  country  seemed  unin 
habited  by  any  human  beings.  A  small  band 
of  antelopes  eyed  him  with  curiosity  and  came 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  181 

so  close  that  he  could  easily  have  killed  some 
of  them. 

When  evening  came  both  the  rider  and  his 
pony  were  so  tired  and  thirsty  that  Philip 
was  glad  to  make  a  lonely  camp  on  an  un 
known  stream  which,  however,  he  judged  to 
be  the  North  Fork  of  the  Canadian. 

In  the  morning  he  shot  a  wild  turkey  and 
ate  part  of  it  for  his  breakfast.  When  he  had 
again  started  southwestward  for  the  prairie, 
he  came  upon  a  flock  of  young  quail,  and  a 
little  way  out  of  the  timber  several  flocks 
of  half -grown  prairie  chickens  ran  and  flut 
tered  across  his  track. 

The  day  grew  very  hot,  and  the  country 
had  had  much  less  rain  than  the  region  along 
the  Arkansas.  For  hour  after  hour  he  rode 
without  seeing  a  bush  or  a  tree  or  a  sign  of 
life  except  prairie  dogs,  gophers  and  rattle 
snakes.  His  tongue  began  to  feel  dry,  and 
he  began  to  look  anxiously  ahead  for  signs  of 
water. 

He  passed  many  buffalo-wallows,  but  they 
were  all  dry.  At  last  in  the  middle  of  the 


182  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

afternoon  when  his  tongue  and  lips  felt 
parched  and  the  heat  had  become  unbearable, 
he  thought  he  saw  some  buffaloes  in  the  dis 
tance.  He  rode  on  eagerly,  thinking  the  an 
imals  would  not  be  far  from  water.  In  a 
little  while  he  could  see  more  of  them,  an  im 
mense  herd;  and  great  was  his  joy  when  he 
saw  that  they  were  standing  in  the  water  in  a 
big  river  or  rather  in  a  lake.  He  had  never 
heard  of  a  lake  in  that  region,  but  there  it  was 
before  his  own  eyes.  There  was  something 
strange  about  those  buffaloes;  they  seemed 
to  be  two  miles  away  and  still  they  seemed  im 
mensely  big,  and  the  lake  or  river  had  also 
something  strange  about  it.  He  was  passing 
into  a  depression  now  and  from  the  rise  be 
yond  he  would,  no  doubt,  be  able  to  get  a 
clearer  view  of  the  strange  scene. 

When  he  reached  the  crest  of  the  ridge,  he 
could  hardly  trust  his  eyes.  The  dry  prairie 
stretched  away  to  the  horizon;  water  and 
buffaloes  had  vanished. 

For  a  moment  he  was  dumfounded;  then 
the  meaning  of  it  all  came  to  him.  A  mirage ! 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  183 

He  had  seen  a  mirage,  a  kind  of  air  picture 
of  buffaloes  and  water  that  might  be  a  hun 
dred  miles  away.  He  had  heard  old  plains 
men  tell  of  them,  but  had  never  before  seen 
one. 

Again  he  looked  around  for  signs  of  water, 
but  there  was  no  tree  or  bush,  not  even  the 
white  sandbed  of  a  dry  stream,  where  he 
might  have  dug  for  water  with  his  hands. 

The  country  was  not  nearly  so  smooth  as 
it  appeared  at  a  distance.  The  rider  crossed 
many  arroyos  and  small  runs,  but  the  pale 
bluish  sage-brush  and  other  desert  plants 
told  the  lad  that  these  depressions  held  no 
water  except  for  a  few  hours  after  a  rain 
storm. 

He  continued  his  journey  till  dark  and  was 
thankful  for  the  cooler  air  and  the  clouds  that 
began  to  cover  the  sky,  hoping  that  it  might 
rain.  Very  soon  it  grew  too  dark  to  travel 
and  he  began  to  fear  that  the  pony  might 
turn  around  and  take  him  back  over  the  same 
route,  so  he  stopped  to  make  a  dry  camp. 

He  staked  his  pony  with  great  care  and 


184  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

then  built  a  fire  of  buffalo  chips  at  which  he 
roasted  a  little  of  the  wild  turkey.  How 
ever,  without  water,  he  could  not  eat  more 
than  just  a  few  bites.  The  pony,  too,  showed 
that  he  wanted  water  more  than  food,  for  he 
hardly  nibbled  at  the  dry  grass  around  him. 

Now  Philip  knew  what  it  meant  to  make 
a  "dry  camp"  or  to  get  into  a  "water 
scrape"  as  the  Santa  Fe  traders  called  it. 

A  few  drops  of  rain  did  fall  on  the  parched 
and  cracked  prairie,  but  only  enough  to  tor 
ment  still  more  the  famished  horse  and  man. 
The  tired  lad  found  only  a  much  broken  sleep, 
for  several  times  a  pack  of  coyotes,  who 
seemed  to  sense  that  here  were  travelers  in 
distress,  came  so  near  that  the  pony  snorted 
and  came  close  up  to  his  master.  A  shot 
fired  from  Philip's  pistol  drove  them  off  for 
a  while,  but  very  soon  they  returned,  circling 
around  horse  and  man  as  if  expecting  that 
both  would  soon  fall  an  easy  prey  to  them. 

Philip  had  never  known  that  a  night  could 
be  so  long.  He  sat  up  and  tried  to  estimate 
the  time  of  the  night  from  the  position  of 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  185 

the  stars,  which  had  come  out  again  toward 
the  north.  He  arose  and  walked  around, 
chewing  a  spear  of  grass  in  a  vain  effort  to 
allay  his  thirst. 

With  the  first  dawn  of  day,  he  was  in  the 
saddle  going  southwest  as  nearly  as  he  could. 
He  cared  no  longer  whether  he  was  on  the 
trail  of  the  Indians  or  not;  for  the  present 
he  had  only  one  thought :  Water !  He  must 
find  water. 

He  tried  to  urge  his  pony  into  a  more  rapid 
pace,  but  the  famished  animal  could  go  no 
faster  than  a  walk  for  more  than  a  short  dis 
tance. 

The  sun  rose  on  a  sky  from  which  every 
promise  of  rain  had  vanished.  A  brownish 
haze  as  of  a  fine  dust  of  the  desert  hung 
above  the  plain  and  encircled  the  horizon. 

As  the  sun  rose  higher  the  agony  of  man 
and  beast  grew.  The  pony  walked  along 
slowly  with  drooping  head,  and  the  lad  began 
to  feel  faint  and  dazed.  The  much  feared 
wind  from  the  southwest  sprang  up,  and  to 
Philip's  surprise  it  seemed  to  revive  the 


186  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

pony's  spirits,  for  he  began  to  walk  more 
briskly  and  carried  his  head  more  erect. 

Something  began  to  stand  out  faintly  at 
the  horizon  line  ahead  of  the  traveler. 
Philip  had  not  heard  of  any  such  formation 
in  that  direction.  He  looked  intently,  trying 
to  penetrate  the  brownish  purple  haze.  Hills 
might  mean  water. 

No,  it  was  something  better;  broken  cliffs 
with  lines  and  clumps  of  trees.  Trees  mean 
water.  The  Canadian  River  must  run  near 
those  trees. 

Kio  continued  to  walk  along  steadily  and 
needed  no  longer  any  urging.  He  was  smell 
ing  the  water. 

Gradually  the  trees  became  more  distinct. 
When  they  disappeared  while  the  rider 
crossed  a  depression,  Philip  was  haunted  by 
the  fear  that  he  might  have  seen  another 
mirage,  but  on  the  ridge  beyond  they  were 
again  in  plain  sight,  and  Philip  could  not 
restrain  a  shout  of  joy. 

About  two  hours  after  the  indication  of 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  187 

water  had  first  become  visible,  horse  and 
rider  plunged  into  the  Canadian. 

Then  Philip  staked  his  horse  and  stretched 
himself  on  the  green  grass  in  the  shade,  where 
he  soon  fell  fast  asleep. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

WILL   THEY   STOP? 

THE  sun  was  already  low  in  the  west, 
when  the  lone  sleeper  was  awakened 
by  the  neighing  of  his  pony,  who  was 
sending  a  message  to  some  wild  horses  that 
had  just  come  to  the  river  a  few  rods  be 
low. 

Philip  instinctively  reached  for  his  gun 
and  crouched  behind  a  tree,  at  the  same  time 
realizing  that  he  had  again  done  a  most  fool 
ish  thing.  He  had  fallen  asleep  in  broad  day 
light  without  taking  the  slightest  precaution 
against  being  surprised.  Captain  Harley 
was  right,  Philip  had  acted  like  a  babe  on  the 
plains.  But  by  this  time  he  also  saw  that 
luck  had  once  more  been  kind  to  the  careless 
boy  by  indulgently  sending  a  band  of  wild 
ponies  to  wake  him  up. 

As  soon  as  he  had  made  sure  that  there 

188 


THE  SILVER  CACHE  189 

were  no  Indians  in  the  neighborhood,  he 
started  the  ponies  on  a  run  down  stream. 

"Stretch  out,  stretch  out!"  he  called  as  he 
flung  up  his  hat  and  threw  stones  after  them. 
"I  can't  expose  Kio  to  your  temptations," 
and  the  wild  horses,  with  flying  manes  and 
tails  made  a  dash  for  the  open  prairie  and 
were  soon  out  of  sight  and  hearing. 

Then  he  laughed  at  himself.  "Here  I 
am,"  he  thought,  "traveling  around  to  find 
Indians,  but  I'm  almighty  afraid  that  they 
might  find  me." 

On  account  of  Kio's  weakness  for  the  com 
pany  of  his  own  kind,  he  rode  a  few  miles 
up  stream  before  he  selected  his  camp  for 
the  night,  because  he  was  afraid  that  during 
the  night  Kio  might  try  to  follow  the  call 
of  his  wild  kindred. 

When  Philip  had  first  struck  the  river,  he 
was  famished  with  thirst  and  worn  out  with 
loss  of  sleep  and  fatigue.  Now  he  felt  raven 
ously  hungry  and  also  uncomfortable  with 
a  fine  dust  that  had  filled  his  hair  and  seemed 
to  have  crawled  through  all  his  clothing.  So 


190  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

while  the  water  in  his  kettle  was  boiling,  he 
took  a  quick  plunge  in  the  river  and  then 
sat  down  at  his  camp  fire  for  a  real  meal, 
for  he  had  eaten  very  little  since  the  early 
morning  on  the  previous  day.  He  had  be 
come  quite  accustomed  to  eating  only  two 
meals  a  day,  but  on  this  occasion  he  had 
eaten  only  one  meal  in  two  days. 

After  supper  he  sat  and  watched  the  sun 
sink  into  the  plain.  Some  owls  began  to 
screech  and  the  whippoorwills  opened  their 
strange  nocturnal  concert.  The  stars  came 
out  and  the  moon  spread  an  atmosphere  of 
unreality  over  the  gurgling  river  and  the 
plains,  while  coyotes  and  gray  wolves,  some 
near  and  some  far,  set  up  their  dismal  wails 
and  howls. 

Philip  was  not  yet  hardened  to  the  soli 
tude  of  wild  nature,  like  old  trappers  and 
plainsmen.  The  loneliness  and  weirdness 
weighed  so  on  him  that  he  almost  wished  that 
some  Indians  would  come  and  capture  him. 

During  the  night  his  sleep  was  much 
broken.  Several  times  the  deep,  loud  howls 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  191 

of  the  gray  wolves  came  quite  near,  and  the 
pony  snorted  and  came  close  to  his  lone 
master  as  if  for  protection  from  the  brutes. 
When  Philip  slept  among  the  men  of  the 
Santa  Fe  Train,  these  common  sounds  of 
the  plains  did  not  awaken  him;  but  now  that 
he  was  alone  he  suddenly  developed  the  wake- 
fulness  of  wild  animals,  which  seem  to  sleep, 
so  to  speak,  with  one  eye  open,  always  ready 
for  flight  or  defense. 

He  was  glad  when,  at  last,  the  gray  dawn 
of  morning  marked  the  beginning  of  another 
day.  But  what  should  he  do  now?  He  felt 
hopelessly  lost  and  alone  in  the  world.  How 
could  he  ever  hope  to  find  his  lost  brother  and 
Burley?  With  the  country  south  of  the 
Canadian  Eiver,  he  was  entirely  unac 
quainted.  How  far  it  was  to  the  next  river 
and  what  kind  of  country  lay  south  of  him 
he  did  not  know.  He  wished  again  that  some 
Indians  might  come.  It  would  be  better  to 
be  captured  than  to  wander  about  in  this  end 
less  solitude. 

Perhaps  Uncle   Jethro  was   a  wise  man 


192  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

after  all.  How  happy  life  would  be  on  their 
farm  on  the  Missouri,  if  he  could  be  there 
with  Ted  and  his  father  and  mother.  If  he 
ever  got  home  he  would  never  again  be  lost 
on  these  uninhabited  plains. 

But  the  rising  sun  and  a  good  hot  break 
fast  enabled  him  to  shake  off  his  despair. 
His  courage  and  spirit  revived,  he  would  find 
Ted  and  Burley  and  together  they  would 
contrive  some  means  of  escape.  Then,  if  only 
their  father  would  return,  Philip  for  his  part, 
would  not  care  what  became  of  the  silver  the 
Indians  had  stolen.  They  might  squander  it, 
hammer  it  into  ornaments,  or  cache  it  any 
where  on  this  forsaken  prairie. 

He  did  not  know  which  way  to  travel,  he 
was  only  sure  of  one  thing:  he  would  not 
again  strike  out  for  the  open  plain,  he  would 
stick  to  the  river  until  he  found  some  Indians 
or  till  some  Indians  found  him.  All  that 
day  and  the  whole  next  day  he  rode  carefully 
up  stream  ever  on  the  lookout  for  signs  of 
human  beings.  But  he  saw  none.  He  did 
indeed  come  across  some  camps,  but  the  signs 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  193 

were  old.  He  could  not  tell  like  Kit  Carson 
and  other  famous  plainsmen,  just  how  old 
they  were.  They  might  be  only  a  month  or 
three  old,  or  they  might  be  a  year  old;  but 
the  men  who  left  them  were  certainly  not 
close  by  now. 

So  he  turned  his  pony  eastward  determined 
to  follow  the  river  down  till  he  found  Indians 
or  fresh  signs  of  them. 

His  nervousness  and  his  fear  of  the  wild 
solitude  had  left  him,  and  his  inborn  Saxon 
courage  had  asserted  itself. 

* '  No  matter  how  scared  you  may  feel,  show 
them  a  bold  front,"  Captain  Harley  had  told 
him.  "If  you  don't  show  fear,  they  will  be 
afraid ;  but  if  you  show  fear,  you  are  lost. ' ' 

His  sleep  was  light,  but  not  on  account  of 
fear;  he  had  acquired  the  watchfulness  of 
the  wild  animals,  of  a  man  in  the  wilderness 
where  laws  and  police  did  not  reach,  but 
where  a  man  protected  himself  by  the 
strength  of  his  arm  and  keenness  of  his 
senses.  He  was  well  armed  with  rifle  and 
pistol.  He  had  plenty  of  ammunition,  and 


194  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

he  knew  how  to  use  the  keen  blade  of  his 
hunting-knife.  He  knew  that  most  of  the 
Plains  Indians  of  that  time  were  armed  only 
with  spears  and  arrows,  no  mean  weapons  in 
their  skillful  hands,  but  vastly  inferior  to  the 
best  firearms  in  the  hands  of  a  courageous 
and  determined  white  man. 

He  thought  it  all  over.  Of  course  he  would 
be  helpless  against  a  big  camp  of  them, 
against  a  hundred  or  a  thousand,  but  against 
a  small  band  of  marauders  or  Indian  des 
peradoes,  he  surely  was  not  quite  helpless, 
provided  of  course  that  he  did  not  allow  him 
self  to  be  surprised  or  ambushed. 

It  was  in  this  frame  of  mind  that  he  rode 
down  the  rugged,  beautiful  valley  of  the 
Canadian  day  after  day  in  search  of  a 
Comanche  camp. 

He  felt  no  longer  afraid  and  oppressed. 
He  had  a  duty  to  perform  and  he  meant  to 
do  it  with  all  his  heart  and  all  his  courage. 
There  was  no  other  way  to  do  it.  He  really 
enjoyed  now  being  on  the  watch  all  day  long 
like  a  deer  or  a  wolf.  In  the  morning  he  felt 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  195 

as  much  refreshed  after  his  light  broken 
sleep  as  if  he  had  been  lying  in  his  safe  bed 
at  home. 

He  had  been  traveling  down  stream  about 
a  week  when  he  met  the  great  test  of  his  cour 
age  and  self-control. 

As  he  crossed  a  ridge,  he  found  himself 
suddenly  in  sight  of  a  small  Indian  camp, 
consisting  of  one  skin  tepee,  near  which  half 
a  dozen  ponies  were  staked. 

His  heart  thumped  and  seemed  to  rise  into 
his  throat.  He  halted  a  moment  to  recon- 
noiter,  then  he  rode  slowly  onward,  but  drew 
a  little  further  away  from  the  timber.  He 
had  not  gone  far,  before  he  discovered  sev 
eral  men  lying  on  the  grass  near  the  tepee. 
They  had  seen  him  too,  and  were  soon  riding 
toward  him  at  full  speed.  Philip  knew  that 
this  was  their  custom  in  approaching 
strangers.  He  halted  his  horse  and  when 
the  Indians  were  close  enough  to  see  his  sig 
nals,  he  gave  them  the  sign  to  stop. 

He  was  now  perfectly  cool.  Would  they 
stop  ?  He  was  determined  that  none  of  them 


196  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

should  lay  hands  on  him.     They  did  not  stop. 

Philip  repeated  his  signal.  He  raised  his 
right  hand  with  the  palm  forward  and  moved 
it  back  and  forth  several  times.  They  were 
close  enough  now  to  have  seen  the  signal  and 
he  was  sure  they  had  understood  it. 

The  Indians  reduced  their  speed,  but  did 
not  stop.  Philip  repeated  the  "halt"  signal 
a  third  time,  and  then  quickly  threw  up  his 
rifle  aiming  it  directly  at  the  leader.  This 
signal  they  understood  and  obeyed  by  coming 
to  a  sudden  stop. 


CHAPTEE  XX 

DANGEROUS   COMPANY 

ALTHOUGH  Philip  felt  that  probably 
the  Indians  were  Comanches,  he  nev 
ertheless  asked  for  the  sign  of  their 
tribe.  He  raised  his  right  hand  and  with  the 
palm  upright,  waved  it  from  right  to  left. 
This  meant  "I  do  not  know  you.  Who  are 
you?" 

One  of  the  Indians  in  reply  made  with  his 
hand  the  sign  of  a  creeping  serpent,  which 
to  all  the  prairie  tribes  meant:  Comanche. 

Then  Philip  clasped  both  of  his  hands  high 
in  front  of  him.  The  Indian  spokesman  did 
not  repeat  the  sign,  but  called  out,  "  Texas  V9 

Philip  knew  what  was  in  their  mind.  They 
thought  he  was  a  Texan  and  they  were  bit 
terly  hostile  to  the  Eepublic  of  Texas.  So 
Philip  shouted  back:  "No,  American !" 

197 


198  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

The  Indians  consulted  a  little  while  before 
one  of  them  repeated  Philip 's  sign  of  clasping 
hands,  which  meant:  "We  are  friendly, " 
and  at  the  same  time  the  others  motioned  for 
him  to  approach. 

Philip,  however,  had  made  up  his  mind  not 
to  allow  them  to  approach,  so  he  signaled 
them  again  to  stop  and  move  away ;  and  when 
in  spite  of  his  signals  they  started  toward 
him,  he  boldly  aimed  his  gun  at  the  fore 
most. 

When  his  determined  attitude  again 
brought  them  to  a  halt,  the  white  lad  tried 
to  make  them  understand  that  he  was  going 
to  the  large  Comanche  camp  eastward  down 
stream,  and  that  he  had  a  message  for  the 
chief.  Then  he  signaled  them  to  go  back  to 
their  camp  and  not  follow  him. 

He  was  not  at  all  sure  that  they  had  under 
stood  his  signs  about  the  message,  but  he  was 
sure  that  they  understood  that  they  were  not 
to  approach  or  follow  him. 

He  felt  strongly  inclined  to  leave  a  present 
of  tobacco  for  them  on  the  ground,  but  feared 


OP  THE  PAWNEE  199 

that  this  would  only  arouse  their  cupidity 
so  he  turned  his  horse  more  toward  the  open 
prairie  and  rode  slowly  away,  for  he  held 
the  worst  suspicion  about  the  character  of  his 
professed  friends. 

All  six  of  them  were  young  men.  No 
women  were  visible  about  the  camp,  there 
fore  they  were  not  a  hunting  party.  Their 
horses  appeared  thin  and  hard  used,  and  one 
of  the  men  had  his  arm  bandaged.  All  these 
things  made  Philip  conclude  that  they  were 
a  small  war  party  returning  from  an  un 
successful  raid  against  the  Pawnees  or  some 
other  tribe.  Philip  knew  that  a  war  party 
returning  without  scalps  and  having  perhaps 
lost  one  or  more  of  its  own  members,  was 
the  most  dangerous  band  of  Indians  for  a 
lone  white  man  to  meet. 

He  really  longed  to  travel  once  more  in 
human  company,  but  he  felt  that  in  this  com 
pany  his  life  would  not  be  safe  a  moment. 
The  temptation  to  bring  home  the  scalp,  horse 
and  equipment  of  a  white  man  would  be  too 
strong  for  these  savages,  whose  fame  as  war- 


200  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

riors  was  evidently  much  in  need  of  bolster 
ing  up. 

The  sun  was  just  touching  the  prairie  and 
within  half  an  hour  it  would  be  dark. 

Philip  looked  back  from  time  to  time  to 
see  what  his  would-be  friends  were  doing. 
At  first  they  seemed  to  be  consulting  and 
watching  him,  but  when  he  was  half  way  up  a 
rise  in  the  prairie,  they  started  to  follow. 
When  Philip  had  reached  the  crest  of  the 
rise,  he  turned  his  horse  and  holding  up  his 
pistol  in  his  left  hand,  pointed  his  rifle  at 
them  with  his  right  hand.  At  this  signal  the 
Indians  promptly  stopped,  and  Philip  turn 
ing  around  in  the  saddle  rode  slowly  over  the 
crest  of  the  rise. 

No  sooner,  however,  felt  he  sure  that  he 
was  out  of  their  sight,  than  he  urged  his 
pony  into  a  gallop  and  disappeared  around 
a  kind  of  a  spur  from  the  prairie,  beyond 
which  he  dashed  into  some  scattered  timber 
in  the  river  bottom  where  he  felt  the  grow 
ing  darkness  of  evening  would  hide  him  from 
pursuit. 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  201 

For  the  present  he  felt  that  he  had  escaped 
from  the  treacherous  band  and  the  more  he 
thought  of  it,  the  more  he  was  convinced  that 
they  could  not  be  trusted.  He  felt  assured 
that  during  the  night  they  could  not  follow  his 
trail  and  that  most  likely  they  would  not  try 
it.  But  he  felt  just  as  sure  that  at  day 
break  they  would  start  on  his  trail  like  a 
pack  of  hounds,  and  that  they  would  employ 
all  their  wonderful  endurance,  their  Indian 
wiles  and  cunning  to  overtake  and  surprise 
him. 

He  felt  grateful  that  he  had  not  fallen  in 
with  them  on  the  first  or  second  day  of  his 
lonely  travels,  before  he  had  had  time  to  ad 
just  his  mind  and  nerves  to  the  loneliness  and 
dangers  of  the  wild  plains. 

Now  he  was  perfectly  cool  and  made  his 
plans  with  a  clear  head.  There  would  be 
no  rest  and  no  camp  for  him  this  night.  The 
moon  would  soon  rise  and  he  would  travel  all 
night.  He  had  taken  pains  not  to  overtax  his 
horse,  and  the  animal  was  in  fine  condition. 

After  he  had  covered  about  two  miles,  he 


202  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

let  Kio  take  a  drink  and  also  refreshed  him 
self.  Then  he  rode  on  again,  eating  his  sup 
per  of  dried  buffalo  meat  in  the  saddle,  while 
his  pony  slowly  traveled  eastward  at  the  foot 
of  the  rugged  bluffs  between  the  prairie  and 
the  river  bottom. 

His  thoughts  ran  back  to  the  long  night 
ride  over  the  dry  route  between  the  Arkansas 
and  the  Cimarron.  He  let  the  pony  pick  his 
own  way  without  urging  him  to  any  speed. 
He  must  keep  him  in  condition  to  keep  going 
all  night  and  all  next  day.  Hour  after  hour 
horse  and  rider  wound  their  way  in  and  out 
among  clumps  and  groves  of  trees  and  around 
spurs  of  bold  rocky  bluffs,  and  Philip  felt 
that  the  shadows  of  the  night  made  horse  and 
rider  almost  invisible. 

The  lad  had  become  oppressed  by  the  weird 
silent  shadows  and  lights  of  the  moon,  when 
a  piercing  scream  across  the  river  made  him 
instinctively  grasp  his  gun  and  caused  a 
shiver  to  creep  up  his  spine.  His  first 
thought  was  "Comanche  war-whoop !"  but 
a  moment's  reflection  told  him  that  he  had 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  203 

heard  the  nocturnal  scream  of  a  panther,  a 
call  closely  resembling  the  outcry  of  a  human 
being  in  distress.  A  second  time  the  op 
pressive  silence  was  broken  by  the  wild 
scream,  and  Philip,  glad  that  the  beast  was 
not  ahead  on  his  path,  thumped  the  pony  into 
a  more  rapid  pace. 

He  had  not  gone  far  before  he  realized 
once  more  that  this  region  deserted  by  man 
was  the  realm  of  wild  beasts.  His  pony  sud 
denly  stopped  and  while  trembling  and  rear 
ing  with  fright,  refused  to  go  forward. 
Something  in  the  brush  right  ahead  fright 
ened  the  animal.  Was  it  another  panther  or 
was  it  a  lurking  Indian?  Philip  grasped  his 
pistol  with  his  right  hand,  for  the  enemy  was 
close  by.  Then  some  large  black  object  with 
a  blood-curdling  "Whoof,  whoof!"  rushed 
out  of  the  thicket,  while  the  frightened  horse 
almost  threw  his  rider. 

"Go  on,  go  on,  Kio."  Philip  patted  the 
wildly  excited  horse.  "Go  on,  we'll  get  out 
of  this  spookland,"  and  he  turned  the  animal 
toward  the  open  prairie. 


204  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

Philip  felt  now  quite  sure  that  by  this  time 
the  Indians  he  had  left  behind  had  given  up 
following  him,  so  he  believed  that  it  would 
be  quite  safe  to  travel  in  the  open.  The 
wooded  bottom  was  really  getting  too  spooky 
for  himself  as  well  as  for  his  pony. 

On  the  prairie  traveling  was  delightful.  A 
gentle  breeze  was  springing  up  from  the  east, 
and  Philip  felt  sure  that  the  pony  would  scent 
any  danger  ahead,  so  they  would  not  suddenly 
come  upon  either  bears  or  panthers,  or  In 
dians. 

For  an  hour  or  more  the  lad  rode  silently 
over  the  moonlit  plain.  Then  the  pony  began 
to  sniff  the  air  and  even  began  to  neigh  so 
that  Philip  slapped  him  gently  on  the  neck 
saying:  "Keep  still,  Kio.  You  talk  too 
much.  Just  march  along  and  let  me  do  the 
talking. " 

From  the  behavior  of  Kio  Philip  felt 
assured  that  there  was  no  danger  ahead. 
Perhaps  Kio  had  smelled  buffaloes  or  wild 
horses. 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  205 

It  was  not  long  before  the  lad  thought  he 
could  make  out  some  black  spots  in  the  dis 
tance,  and  very  soon  he  found  himself  in  a 
herd  of  buffaloes,  quietly  grazing  or  lying 
down  on  the  prairie  like  cows  and  oxen.  The 
whole  country  seemed  to  be  covered  with 
them,  but  they  were  scattered  in  small 
bunches  of  fifty  or  a  hundred.  Philip  rea 
soned  that  they  had  been  to  the  river  to  drink 
late  in  the  afternoon  and  that  they  were  now 
resting  and  chewing  the  cud  like  domestic 
cattle. 

He  wound  his  way  through  the  scattered 
bands  and  was  careful  not  to  disturb  them, 
for  if  they  should  become  aroused  and  start 
a  stampede,  he  and  Kio  might  have  a  hard 
time  to  keep  out  of  the  mad  rush  of  thousands 
of  frantic  wild  cattle. 

There  seemed  no  end  to  the  herds,  and 
Philip  rode  on  and  on,  till  he  noticed  that 
the  pony  was  getting  tired  and  judged  that 
it  must  be  past  midnight.  The  lad  himself 
also  began  to  feel  tired  and  hungry,  so  he 


206  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

stopped  for  a  rest  and  a  meal  in  a  clump  of 
trees  growing  on  a  small  creek  flowing  toward 
the  Canadian. 

While  the  pony  was  eating  his  fill  of  grass, 
his  master  built  a  small  fire  and  was  soon 
refreshed  with  a  kettle  of  sweetened  tea  and 
dried  meat.  Thinking  that  the  pony  needed 
some  more  rest  and  food,  Philip  lay  down 
for  a  short  sleep,  but  before  he  did  so,  he 
put  the  saddle  on  Kio  so  he  could  be  off 
quick  if  necessary.  He  felt  quite  sure  that 
he  would  not  oversleep,  for  since  he  had  trav 
eled  alone  he  awoke  frequently  during  the 
night.  He  could  have  gone  without  sleep,  but 
he  knew  from  experience  how  hard  it  is  for 
a  man  to  be  really  himself  if  he  has  gone 
entirely  without  sleep  for  a  whole  night. 

When  he  awoke  the  stars  were  still  shin 
ing,  and  Philip  did  not  know  whether  he  had 
slept  an  hour  or  two.  The  pony  had  eaten 
his  fill  of  grass  and  brush  and  was  lying  flat 
on  his  side  as  sound  asleep  as  a  pony  can 
be. 

"Get  up,  lazy  boy,"  Philip  called  as  he 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  207 

went  went  over  to  him.  i  '  We  had  better  slip 
away  before  our  Comanche  friends  shoo  us 
out  of  this  nest.  Hope  you  didn't  dream  of 
bears  and  panthers,  old  boy." 

Again  the  rider  was  on  his  way  through 
buffalo  herds,  which  spread  over  the  prairie 
on  the  other  side  of  the  creek.  Philip  was 
glad  that  he  had  fallen  in  with  the  buffaloes. 
The  Comanches  would  find  it  difficult  to  fol 
low  his  trail  through  the  buffaloes ;  moreover 
he  felt  almost  sure  that  they  would  kill  one 
or  two  and  stop  for  a  big  feed.  If  they  did 
that,  he  was  safe ;  they  would  never  overtake 
him. 

It  was  almost  noon  when  he  came  to  the 
end  of  the  herd.  He  had  amused  himself  es 
timating  the  number  he  had  seen.  His  count 
soon  ran  up  to  5,000,  then  to  10,000,  and  he 
quit  counting,  when  he  had  reached  20,000. 
A  few  days  ago  the  prairie  had  seemed  to  be 
lifeless,  now  he  had  a  feeling  that  it  was  a 
great  wild  cattle  ranch  covered  with  buffa 
loes,  big  bulls  and  cows  and  little  brown 
calves,  not  thousands,  but  millions  of  them. 


208  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

Captain  Harley  had  claimed  that  the  buffa 
loes  would  some  day  all  be  killed  off.  It 
seemed  impossible.  There  must  be  hundreds 
if  not  thousands  of  such  big  herds  spread 
over  the  Great  Plains  from  Texas  and  Mexico 
far  into  Canada.  Neither  Indians  nor  whites 
could  ever  kill  them  all. 

In  the  afternoon  Philip  scouted  carefully 
over  every  rise  in  the  prairie.  He  did  not 
wish  to  ride  into  a  trap  and,  if  there  was 
a  large  Indian  camp  on  the  river,  he  might 
expect  signs  of  it  almost  any  time. 

Since  he  had  left  the  buffaloes,  the  plains 
again  appeared  almost  lifeless.  One  small 
band  of  antelopes  and  a  few  wolves  and  coy 
otes  was  all  he  had  seen. 

When  the  sun  sank  low  on  the  horizon, 
he  once  more  made  camp  under  some  trees 
on  a  small  stream.  He  understood  now  that 
a  big  wagon  with  a  dozen  mules  or  oxen 
might  absolutely  disappear  on  these  plains. 
It  was  a  sheer  endless  and  boundless  world 
of  prairie  and  streams,  of  valleys  and  ra 
vines.  Perhaps,  he  thought,  he  had  made  a 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  209 

mistake  by  not  allowing  those  Comanches  to 
approach  him.  Maybe  he  might  travel  a 
month  clear  to  the  Mississippi  or  Missouri — 
he  did  not  know  which  he  would  strike — with 
out  seeing  a  human  being. 

He  staked  his  pony  and  before  cooking  sup 
per  he  scouted  on  foot  to  the  crest  of  the  next 
rise. 

When  he  looked  cautiously  over  the  ridge, 
something  at  once  attracted  his  attention. 
He  rose  on  his  hands  and  peered  hard  ahead. 
It  was  no  mistake.  There  was  smoke  rising 
in  the  river  valley  about  two  miles  off.  He 
lay  down  flat  on  the  prairie,  his  ear  on  the 
ground.  He  did  not  realize  how  all  his  senses 
had  become  more  alert  and  sharper  during 
his  days  of  lone  travel.  He  could  plainly 
hear  some  noise.  What  was  it?  Very  soon 
he  made  it  out. 

It  was  the  beating  of  Indian  drums.  He 
had  found  what  he  had  been  looking  for.  A 
big  Indian  camp  was  located  only  two  miles 
away. 


CHAPTEK  XXI 

IN   BED   WOLF'S   CAMP 

PHILIP  decided  not  to  enter  the 
Comanche  camp  before  next  morning. 
Whether  he  would  find  Ted  and  Bur- 
ley  in  that  camp,  he  had  of  course  no  means 
of  knowing.  He  felt  that  he  would  probably 
be  treated  as  a  prisoner  even  if  his  life  was 
spared.  He  had  never  been  in  a  Comanche 
camp  but  was  quite  well  acquainted  with  the 
customs  of  the  Shawnees  and  other  tribes 
who  in  those  days  were  living  near  Inde 
pendence. 

He  had  some  knowledge  of  the  Indian  sign 
language,  and  he  had  learned  a  few  Coman 
che  words,  because  Comanche  was  a  kind  of 
inter-tribal  trade  language.  He  hoped  to 
have  a  little  luck  in  his  adventure,  and  he 
was  determined  to  use  his  wits  and  put  on 

a  bold  face,  no  matter  what  happened. 
210 


THE  SILVER  CACHE  211 

He  would  have  preferred  to  ride  into  the 
camp  at  once  and  learn  if  Ted  and  Burley 
were  there.  But  it  would  be  almost  dark 
by  the  time  he  could  reach  the  place,  and  it 
would  be  much  safer  to  go  amongst  the 
strange  savages  in  the  morning. 

So  he  made  himself  as  comfortable  a  camp 
as  possible  for  the  night,  and  hid  a  part  of 
his  ammunition  in  a  hollow  tree. 

" There  is  no  telling, "  he  thought,  "what 
need  I  may  have  of  it.  After  I  join  the  big 
camp,  I  may  not  be  able  to  keep  anything  for 
myself. ' ' 

He  was  careful  to  stake  out  his  pony  so 
that  he  could  not  be  seen  from  the  prairie 
around,  and  he  did  not  make  a  fire  for  his 
supper  and  coffee  until  it  was  so  dark  that 
he  felt  sure  that  all  the  Comanche  hunting- 
parties  or  scouts  had  returned  to  camp.  He 
felt  quite  sure  that  he  had  thrown  off  the 
small  war-party  of  a  few  days  ago.  He  had 
crossed  and  followed  so  many  tracts  of  buf 
faloes  and  wild  horses,  and  had  sometimes 
followed  the  windings  of  the  river  and  at 


212  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

other  times  cut  across  the  prairie  that  they 
could  not  possibly  have  picked  out  his  trail. 
Still  he  took  the  precaution  to  put  out  his 
small  fire  as  soon  as  his  bacon  and  coffee  were 
done. 

He  awoke  several  times  during  the  night 
and  listened  for  signs  of  danger,  but  there 
came  only  the  sounds  to  which  he  was  well 
used  by  this  time,  the  howling  and  yapping 
of  coyotes  and  wolves  and  the  screams  and 
calls  of  a  few  night  birds  like  owls  and  whip- 
poorwills. 

In  the  morning  he  fixed  himself  up  as  well 
as  he  could  and  then  rode  straight  into  the 
Comanche  camp.  It  was  a  big  camp  contain 
ing  some  two  hundred  skin  tepees,  and  east 
of  the  camp  he  saw  a  herd  of  about  a 
thousand  ponies.  His  keen  eyes  picked  out 
several  animals  that  seemed  unusually  large 
for  Indian  ponies.  They  must  be  mules,  the 
stolen  mules  of  Captain  Barley's  train.  His 
heart  beat  faster,  when  he  made  this  dis 
covery.  If  Captain  Harley's  mules  were 
here,  Ted  and  Burley  ought  to  be  here,  too. 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  213 

The  sudden  appearance  of  a  lone  white  man 
in  the  Comanche  camp  caused  at  once  a  great 
stir.  A  pack  of  dogs  yelped  and  jumped 
around  him,  small  naked  children  tumbled 
hastily  into  the  tepees,  larger  ones  gath 
ered  around  him,  while  crowds  of  men  and 
women  stared  at  him  in  wonder.  What  could 
it  mean  1  No  lone  white  man  had  ever  ridden 
boldly  into  the  camp  of  the  Lords  of  the 
Plains. 

Philip  made  signs  to  a  young  man  that  he 
had  come  to  see  the  chief,  and  the  young  man 
led  him  to  a  large  tent  decorated  with  the 
head  of  a  wolf  in  bright  red  paint. 

The  chief,  a  middle-aged  man,  came  out, 
and  Philip,  who  had  dismounted,  shook  hands 
with  him. 

Philip  did  not  know  what  to  do  next,  but 
he  felt  that  he  must  do  something,  so  he  told 
the  chief  that  he  had  a  message  from  his  mas 
ter  and  pulled  out  a  paper  Captain  Harley 
had  given  him. 

The  chief  told  the  people  to  go  away  and 
motioned  to  Philip  to  come  into  the  tepee 


214  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

with  him,  where  he  took  the  paper  and  looked 
it  over  with  a  grave  mien. 

"What  does  it  say?"  lie  asked  as  he  handed 
it  back  to  Philip. 

"It  says,"  Philip  told  him,  "I  have  learned 
that  one  of  my  men  and  one  of  my  boys  live 
with  yon.  I  am  glad  they  are  with  a  great 
and  good  chief ,  who  will  treat  them  well.  I 
send  you  some  presents  as  much  as  my  runner 
could  carry  on  his  long  journey." 

Philip  thought  the  chief  looked  puzzled,  but 
when  the  white  lad  gave  him  the  tobacco, 
sugar,  and  coffee,  he  was  evidently  pleased. 

In  those  days  the  Northern  Comanches  had 
very  little  intercourse  with  white  men,  and 
sugar  and  coffee  were  almost  unknown  lux 
uries. 

After  a  period  of  silence,  the  chief  asked, 
"Is  it  the  Great  Father  of  all -the  white 
men  who  sends  this?" 

Now  Philip  understood  what  puzzled  the 
chief. 

"No,"  he  told  him.  "My  brave  chief  of 
the  Long  Trail,  who  is  taking  a  large  train 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  215 

of  wagons  to  Santa  Fe.  He  could  not  visit 
your  camp  because  he  must  go  to  Santa  Fe." 

"Has  he  many  soldiers  with  him?"  asked 
the  chief. 

"No,  he  is  a  brave  man  and  a  friend  of  the 
Comanches,  so  he  travels  without  soldiers. 
He  is  sorry  that  your  young  men  stole  some 
of  his  mules  but  he  has  enough  mules  and 
gee-haws  to  reach  Santa  Fe  and  wished  you 
to  keep  the  mules  your  young  men  took. ' ' 

Philip  could  not  tell  whether  the  chief  be 
lieved  his  message  or  not. 

After  sitting  in  silence  for  a  while,  the 
chief  took  a  pinch  of  the  brown  sugar  Philip 
had  given  him. 

"Good,  good!"  he  grunted.  "We  shall 
make  a  feast  to-night ! ' ' 

"Now,"  Philip  thought,  "is  the  right  time 
to  make  my  big  request,"  and  he  tried  hard 
to  appear  calm  and  bold. 

"I  must  see  the  white  man  and  the  boy," 
he  told  the  chief,  "my  master  wishes  me  to 
tell  them  that  they  may  stay  with  his  friends, 
the  Comanches." 


216  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

There  came  a  pause  of  painful  silence. 
Were  Burley  and  Ted  in  this  camp?  Philip 
had  boldly  assumed  that  they  were.  Would 
the  chief  acknowledge  it,  if  they  actually 
were  in  this  camp  ? 

He  looked  the  chief  straight  in  the  face, 
but  did  not  press  him  for  an  answer. 

The  chief  took  another  pinch  of  sugar,  and 
smacking  his  lips  with  delight  at  the  taste  of 
the  rare  luxury,  invited  Philip  to  take  a 
pinch. 

"Ugh,"  he  grunted  as  he  put  the  sugar 
aside.  "Eat  it  to-night  at  big  feast." 

Philip  began  to  wonder  if  the  chief  had 
forgotten  his  request  about  seeing  the  white 
man  and  the  boy,  but  was  afraid  to  repeat  it. 

The  chief  chewed  a  few  of  the  roasted 
coffee  beans  and  again  muttered:  "Good, 
good!" 

Then  when  Philip  was  just  about  to  re 
mind  him  of  his  request,  he  said : 

"The  white  man  and  the  boy  cannot  come 
now.  They  are  herding  the  ponies  over 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  217 

there.  My  young  men  shall  bring  them  in 
to-night." 

Philip  wanted  to  embrace  the  old  Coman- 
che,  throw  up  his  arms  and  shout  and  dance 
like  a  boy  whose  team  has  just  won  a  hard 
football  game.  But  he  set  his  teeth  on  his 
tongue,  reached  out  his  hand  and  said 
gravely : 

' '  Thank  you.  I  shall  be  glad  to  bring  them 
greetings  from  my  chief." 

After  a  while  the  chief  told  a  young  man 
to  take  care  of  Philip's  pony  while  he  took 
the  lad  to  a  tepee  in  front  of  which  a  rather 
old  woman  was  sitting.  The  chief  spoke  a 
few  words  to  the  squaw  and  then,  after  taking 
Philip  into  the  tepee,  motioned  him  to  take 
the  place  opposite  the  opening,  which  was 
the  seat  of  honor  in  an  Indian  tepee.  Then 
the  chief  went  away  and  Philip  was  left  alone 
with  his  thoughts. 

The  events  of  the  last  few  days  passed 
through  his  mind  like  a  dream.  He  could 
hardly  believe  that  on  the  boundless  world  of 


218  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

the  great  plains,  he,  a  rather  green  plains 
man,  had  actually  struck  the  Indian  camp, 
where  Burley  and  Ted  were  living.  The 
chief  had  treated  him  well.  Could  he  really 
be  trusted,  or  was  he  concealing  some  Indian 
treachery?  Philip  could  not  tell,  he  did  not 
know  the  Comanche  customs  and  the  Coman- 
che  character  well  enough.  He  had  largely 
followed  the  advice  Captain  Hurley  had  given 
him,  and  had  done  what  the  hour  and  the  cir 
cumstances  made  necessary.  He  also  won 
dered  how  much  of  Harley's  message  the 
chief  had  really  understood.  How  much  re 
spect  did  he  feel  for  a  chief  of  trainmen, 
mules  and  gee-haws?  Philip  was  much  in 
doubt  on  this  point.  He  knew  that  up  to  this 
time  the  Plains  Indians  had  never  felt  the 
military  strength  of  the  United  States,  and 
that  many  of  them  thought  the  whites  were  no 
more  numerous  than  one  of  the  Indian  tribes. 
His  thoughts  were  interrupted  by  the  old 
squaw  coming  in  with  a  kettle  of  fresh 
buffalo  meat  and  hot  broth.  When  Philip 
had  eaten,  the  woman  brought  him  a  pair  of 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  219 

moccasins  and  motioned  to  him  to  take  off  Ms 
boots  and  put  on  the  moccasins,  a  request  he 
was  glad  to  comply  with. 

Some  curious  people  came  to  take  a  look 
at  the  white  boy,  but  the  old  woman  drove 
them  away  with  angry  words ;  while  Philip, 
tired  and  almost  worn  out  with  the  excite 
ment  and  hard  travel  of  a  week,  stretched 
himself  on  the  buffalo-skins  and  soon  fell 
asleep. 

In  the  evening  the  chief  sent  for  him  to 
come  to  the  feast.  Some  of  the  other  chiefs 
were  already  there,  more  came  in  soon,  and 
the  last  to  come  in  were  Burley  and  Ted. 
Had  it  not  been  for  Burley 's  serious  Indian- 
like  face,  Philip  would  have  jumped  up  and 
given  a  yell  that  might  have  scared  every 
Comanche  out  of  the  tepee. 

But  he  caught  himself  in  time  and  in  a  dig 
nified  manner,  as  became  the  messenger  of 
a  great  wagon-master,  gravely  shook  hands 
with  Ted  and  Burley  just  as  he  had  done  with 
the  Indians. 

At  first  the  pipe  went  around  filled  with 


220  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

the  tobacco  Philip  had  brought.  When  Ted 
passed  it  on  without  taking  a  few  whiffs,  the 
Indians  all  laughed. 

"Too  little,  too  little, "  one  of  the  Indians 
remarked.  "Get  heap  sick.  Keep  no  eat." 

That  remark  seemed  to  have  taken  the  stiff 
ness,  as  we  say,  out  of  the  party;  and  the 
scarred  old  braves  began  to  thaw  out. 

Indians  among  themselves  are  really  a  so 
cial  and  jovial  people,  but  are  very  sensitive 
to  ridicule  and  always  reserved  in  the  pres 
ence  of  strangers. 

After  the  pipe  had  gone  around  several 
times,  a  woman  brought  in  a  kettleful  of 
coffee,  which  was  poured  into  a  few  tin  cups 
and  passed  around,  everybody  taking  a  few 
swallows.  When  Burley  stirred  some  sugar 
into  the  coffee  they  were  as  delighted  as 
schoolboys  with  an  unlimited  amount  of  ice 
cream,  for  most  of  them  had  not  tasted  sugar 
for  years. 

There  was  plenty  of  food  in  camp  and  the 
women  brought  in  kettles  filled  with  the  meat 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  221 

of  buffaloes,  elk,  deer,  and  antelope.  Forks 
and  knives  there  were  none,  every  one  helped 
himself  with  his  fingers  and  drank  as  much 
hot  broth  as  he  liked. 

Both  Philip  and  Ted  were  surprised  at 
the  amount  of  meat  which  vanished.  When 
the  feasters  seemed  to  be  sated  with  the  wild 
meat,  the  chief  pointed  to  a  piece  of  bacon 
Philip  had  brought.  Philip  at  once  arose, 
cut  the  bacon  into  slices  and  fried  it  in  his 
pan  over  the  tepee  fire. 

With  this  new  dish  every  Indian  seemed  to 
grow  hungry  again  and  Philip  fried  and 
passed  bacon  till  nothing  but  the  rind  was 
left.  After  the  bacon  was  gone  a  squaw 
brought  in  another  kettle  of  coffee,  and  when 
the  feast  ended  about  midnight,  there  was 
not  an  ounce  of  sugar,  coffee,  or  bacon  left 
in  camp  but  every  Indian  had  had  the  feast 
of  his  life ;  for  it  was  an  unheard-of  thing  for 
a  Comanche  to  have  all  the  sweet  coffee  and 
bacon  he  wanted. 

" Great  stunt  of  you  to  bring  that  grub!" 


222  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

Burley  hurriedly  whispered  to  Philip  as  the 
strange  party  broke  up.  "We  are  safe,  I 
think,  for  the  present.  But  don't  forget  we 
are  prisoners,  all  three  of  us.  Don't  say  a 
word  about  your  father  and  the  silver." 


CHAPTER 

CAPTIVE   OB   FREE? 

WHEN  Philip  returned  to  his  tepee 
that  evening,  two  old  Indians 
were  already  there,  although 
there  had  been  noisy  feasts  all  over  the  big 
village.  His  gun  and  pistol  had  disappeared. 
Philip  thought  it  would  do  no  good  to  ask 
what  had  become  of  them,  but  when  the  old 
man  noticed  that  Philip  missed  his  weapons, 
he  pointed  in  the  direction  of  the  chief's 
tepee  and  said :  *  '  Red  Wolf. ' ' 

Then  Philip  knew  that  Red  Wolf  the  chief 
whom  he  had  furnished  the  means  to  get  up 
a  swell  Indian  feast  had  sent  for  his  weapons. 
"It's  just  for  safe  keeping,"  Philip  said  to 
himself,  "the  small  white  boy  might  get  hurt 
playing  with  the  guns." 

If  Philip  had  been  in  any  doubt  whether 
he  was  a  captive  or  a  free  man  he  learned 

223 


224  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

the  truth  next  morning.  The  old  man,  who 
with  his  squaw  was  not  only  Philip's  atten 
dant  but  his  guard  pointed  to  a  kettle  in  front 
of  the  tepee. 

* '  Eat, ' '  he  said.    '  *  No  leave  big  camp. ' ' 

In  front  of  the  tepee  two  poles  had  been 
stuck  in  the  ground  and  from  the  top  of  each 
hung  a  scalp.  As  Philip  looked  at  them,  won 
dering  what  they  meant,  the  old  man  grunted : 
"He  run  away.  Comanche  catch  him.'' 

Philip  knew  that  the  scalps  had  been  put 
up  as  a  warning  to  him,  and  for  the  present 
he  had  no  intentions  of  running  away ;  but  he 
started  on  a  leisurely  stroll  through  the  camp, 
which  had  been  made  in  some  scattered  tim 
ber  near  the  river.  The  stroll  was  more  in 
teresting  than  pleasant,  for  a  mob  of  dogs 
and  children  were  soon  at  his  heels.  The 
hunters  had  evidently  found  plenty  of  buffa 
loes,  for  everywhere  Philip  saw  plenty  of 
fresh  and  dried  buffalo  meat. 

The  women  were  all  busy.  Some  were 
scraping  and  smoking  skins  of  deer  and  buf 
falo,  others  were  making  moccasins  or  hunt- 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  225 

ing  shirts  or  braiding  long  ropes  out  of  raw 
hide,  while  others  were  taking  care  of  their 
small  children  and  gossiping  and  laughing. 

A  good  many  of  the  men  were  away  hunt 
ing;  and  Philip  could  not  help  seeing  how  en 
tirely  these  people  depended  on  the  buffaloes 
for  almost  everything  they  needed. 

Most  of  the  men  in  camp  were  doing  noth 
ing  but  smoke  and  bask  in  the  sun,  while  a 
few  were  making  bows  and  arrows,  and  one 
old  man  was  making  a  pipe  out  of  a  piece  of 
soft  rock. 

Philip  was  very  desirous  of  learning 
whether  Burley  and  Ted  were  herding  the 
ponies  every  day,  and  where  their  tepee  was. 
Apparently  neither  Burley  nor  Ted  were  in 
camp,  nor  did  he  learn  what  had  become  of 
his  own  pony  and  saddle. 

When  Philip  returned  to  the  tepee  of  Old 
Bear,  the  name  of  his  keeper,  he  had  taken 
a  kind  of  census  of  the  Comanche  camp.  He 
had  counted  more  than  two  hundred  tepees, 
all  made  of  buffalo  skins  and  many  of  them 
beautifully  decorated  with  simple  designs 


226  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

and  with  the  figures  of  many  kinds  of  birds 
and  animals. 

"There  must  be  a  thousand  Indians  in  this 
skin  town,"  thought  Philip  as  he  stretched 
himself  on  the  buffalo  rug  in  Old  Bear's 
tepee.  "That  means  about  two  hundred 
warriors  and  hunters.  Pretty  slim  chance 
for  the  three  of  us  to  get  away.  They  would 
hunt  us  down  like  a  pack  of  wolves  run  a  deer. 
But  wait  till  I  see  Burley." 

For  a  few  days  Philip  rather  enjoyed  the 
lazy  life.  It  seemed  good  to  have  nothing 
to  do  but  eat  and  sleep  and  poke  around  the 
camp.  But  after  he  was  thoroughly  rested 
from  his  hard  journey,  the  white  man's  im 
patience  and  restlessness  took  possession  of 
him. 

"Confound  this  lazy  life,"  he  muttered  one 
day  as  he  lay  kicking  up  his  feet  on  the  river 
bank.  "Indians  surely  don't  know  any  time. 
There's  Old  Bear!  Just  lies  around  all  day. 
Has  as  much  time  as  the  river  and  the  hills. 
He  doesn't  even  talk.  Why  doesn't  the  old 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  227 

fellow  tell  me  where  Burley  and  Ted  are. 
He  knows  I  want  to  know. ' ' 

Some  women  came  by  carrying  firewood  to 
camp. 

"Hang  it  all,"  Philip's  thoughts  ran  on. 
"I  should  like  to  chop  and  carry  some  wood 
for  the  women.  All  my  muscles  are  itching. 
But  if  I  did,  the  whole  skin  town  would  laugh 
at  me.  That's  the  work  of  the  squaws,  and 
they  would  resent  my  butting  in  on  their 
household  affairs.  A  man  must  not  do  any 
thing  else  but  go  on  the  warpath,  hunt  buf 
faloes,  steal  horses  and  mules,  and  lie  around. 

"Hang  this  life!  I'm  going  to  find  out 
where  Burley  and  Ted  are  and  I  am  going 
to  find  something  to  do.  Wouldn't  Uncle 
Jethro  laugh  if  he  knew  I  was  going  to  hunt 
for  a  job  in  a  Comanche  village?" 

The  next  morning,  when  Old  Bear  was 
puffing  his  pipe  in  front  of  the  tepee,  Philip 
made  his  first  attempt  to  draw  the  old  war 
rior  into  conversation.  After  he  had  been 
sitting  near  him  for  a  little  while  he  asked 


228  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

in  a  respectful  way :  "Ninahpuk,  my  father, 
where  is  the  white  man  and  his  small  boyl" 

It  seemed  to  please  Old  Bear  that  Philip 
called  him  father,  and  after  he  had  drawn  a 
few  more  puffs  out  of  his  pipe,  he  answered, 
11  Watch  Comanche  ponies. " 

"My  father,"  Philip  began  after  a  short 
silence,  "I  am  young  and  strong.  I  came 
a  long  way  and  was  very  tired,  but  now  I  have 
eaten  and  slept  much  and  I  am  no  longer 
tired." 

Philip  had  been  very  happy  to  find  that 
his  keeper  spoke  some  English ;  but  when  Old 
Bear  did  not  reply,  Philip  made  another  at 
tempt. 

"I  have  rested  now,"  he  said,  "I  should 
like  to  hunt  buffalo  or  watch  ponies." 

"Go  and  see  Bed  Wolf,"  his  keeper  replied 
now.  "May  be  so,  he  say  yes." 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

DESPERATE   PLANS 

WHEN  Philip  saw  Bed  Wolf, 
the  old  man  was  examining 
Philip's  gun  and  pistol  with 
much  interest,  and  Philip  keeping  in  mind 
the  advice  of  Captain  Harley,  made  the  chief 
understand  that  he  might  keep  both  as  a 
present. 

If  Philip  had  really  been  a  free  guest  of 
the  Comanches  the  chief  would  have  made 
him  some  present  in  return,  but  now  he  only 
told  him  that  he  might  go  and  watch  the 
ponies  with  the  white  man  and  his  small  son. 

It  may  be  imagined  how  happy  Philip  was 
to  have  at  last  an  opportunity  to  talk  to  Ted 
and  Burley  and  learn  everything  that  had 
happened  to  them,  and  to  have  something  to 
do. 

229 


230  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

Philip  was  surprised  that  the  three  white 
men  were  left  entirely  to  themselves  herding 
the  ponies. 

"If  we  rode  away  as  fast  as  we  could,"  he 
asserted,  "we  might  make  twenty  miles  be 
fore  anybody  knew  we  had  left." 

Jim  Burley  just  laughed  at  this  idea  of 
Philip's. 

"Why,  lad,"  he  replied,  "you  don't  know 
Indians  very  well.  I  advise  you  not  to  try 
it.  If  you  think  we  are  not  watched,  you 
still  have  much  to  learn  about  Indian  ways. 
I  am  sure  somebody  is  keeping  an  eye  on  us 
this  very  minute.  If  we  tried  to  escape,  fifty 
mounted  men  would  pursue  us  in  half  an 
hour.  Those  two  scalps  you  saw  belonged 
once  to  two  captive  Mexican  boys,  who 
thought  as  you  do.  They  were  set  to  herd 
ing  the  ponies  and  they  thought  escape 
would  be  easy,  but  the  Comanche  scouts 
brought  their  scalps  into  camp  before  sun 
set  on  the  day  they  had  run  away." 

This  was  indeed  crushing  news  to  Philip, 
who  had  nursed  the  belief  that  if  he  had  once 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  231 

found  Ted  and  Burley,  they  would  all  three 
make  their  escape  in  a  few  days. 

"  Where  are  the  scouts  that  are  watching 
us?"  asked  Philip.  "Show  them  to  me." 

"I  have  never  seen  them,"  retorted 
Burley,  "but  I  know  we  are  watched;  I  feel 
it  in  my  bones." 

"Nobody  watched  me  in  the  tepee  and 
when  I  walked  around  in  the  village,"  argued 
Philip. 

"Phil,  don't  be  pig-headed,"  Burley  came 
back,  a  little  impatiently.  "The  whole  camp 
was  watching  you,  but  they  didn't  think  you 
would  be  fool  enough  to  try  to  hoof  it  back 
home  without  arms  or  blankets,  so  they  didn't 
tie  you  up. 

"No  use,  lads,  no  use!  Didn't  you  ever 
wish  you  could  live  with  the  Indians?" 

Ted  and  Philip  looked  at  each  other  with 
out  denying  it. 

"Well,  boys,  your  wish  has  come  true. 
Just  play  Comanche  with  all  your  heart! 
Get  right  into  the  game!  The  harder  you 
play  Indians,  the  better  you're  off. 


232  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

"And  I'll  tell  you  this:  If  you  ever  hike 
off,  I'll  help  to  bring  you  back  and  see  that 
you  get  whipped  good  and  hard.  So  don't 
start  any  foolery." 

A  few  days  later  as  Burley  and  Philip 
were  leisurely  riding  around  the  herd  of 
nearly  a  thousand  ponies,  Burley  said: 

"Phil,  ride  along  kind  of  carelessly  and 
squint  over  to  that  grove  of  walnuts  about 
half  a  mile  east,  but  don't  stop.  I'll  ride 
around  the  herd  the  other  way." 

"I  didn't  see  anything  but  a  couple  of  logs 
in  the  brush,"  Philip  reported,  when  he  met 
Burley  again. 

"Pretty  good  scouting,"  Burley  laughed. 
"I  saw  one  of  those  logs  roll  himself  out  of 
the  sun  and  into  the  shade,  a  little  while  be 
fore  I  spoke  to  you.  Do  you  believe  now 
that  they  are  watching  us?" 

After  this  the  boys  stopped  talking  of 
escape  and  just  played  Indian.  They  prac 
ticed  roping  the  ponies,  they  had  races  and 
learned  doing  all  kinds  of  tricks  on  horse 
back,  they  killed  prairie-dogs  with  stones  and 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  233 

sticks,  they  took  many  a  swim  in  the  river 
and  in  the  creeks,  and  when  they  had  a 
chance,  they  played  and  wrestled  and  raced 
with  the  Comanche  boys. 

If  they  could  only  have  had  their  guns 
and  pistols,  they  would  have  been  quite 
happy,  but  those  the  Indians  had  taken  out 
after  buffaloes  and  they  had  soon  used  up  all 
the  ammunition. 

The  boys  wanted  to  ask  the  Indians  for 
bows  and  arrows,  but  Burley  would  not  al 
low  it.5 

"They  would  at  once  be  suspicious/'  he 
told  them.  "They  are  no  longer  watching  us 
very  closely,  so  let  them  alone.  If  we  stay 
long  enough  they  may  invite  us  to  go  along 
hunting. ' ' 

In  this  way  the  summer  wore  away  and  the 
days  were  getting  much  shorter.  The  boys 
had  both  lost  count  of  the  days,  but  Burley 
said  it  was  about  the  middle  of  August. 

About  a  week  later  some  scouts  reported 
that  there  was  a  big  herd  of  buffaloes  about 
ten  miles  east  of  camp,  and  the  next  day 


234  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

nearly  all  the  men  went  on  a  big  buffalo 
hunt. 

Burley  and  the  boys  were  herding  the 
ponies  west  of  camp,  and  a  little  before  sun 
set  they  slowly  drove  them  over  the  ridge 
about  two  miles  from  camp. 

All  three  riders  were  up  on  the  ridge 
where  they  might  be  seen  from  camp.  At 
this  place  it  occurred  to  Burley  that  some  of 
the  ponies  had  strayed  away  among  the  trees 
up  the  river  and  he  asked  the  boys  to  come 
along  to  look  for  them. 

The  boys  thought  nothing  of  this,  because 
it  was  not  an  unusual  occurrence.  However, 
when  Burley  rode  along  slowly  until  it  was 
getting  dark,  Ted  became  uneasy  and  asked : 

"Mr.  Burley,  hadn't  we  better  look  for 
them  in  the  morning.  Old  Bear  will  be 
angry,  if  Philip  comes  home  so  late." 

Burley  did  not  really  answer  Ted's  ques 
tion.  He  just  said  rather  absent-mindedly, 
"We'll  go  a  little  farther  to  the  next  creek 
before  we  turn." 

When  they  reached  the  creek  Burley  gave 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  235 

his  horse  a  drink  and  told  the  boys  to  let  their 
horses  drink.  "And  you  had  better  take  a 
long  drink  yourselves, "  he  added.  "This 
creek  has  mighty  good  water. " 

Then,  when  all  three  were  in  the  saddle  once 
more  he  spoke  in  a  low  voice : 

"Now,  boys!  Hang  all  the  Comanches! 
We've  been  their  slaves  long  enough.  May 
God  help  us  to  get  away!  To-night  we  beat 
it  straight  for  Bent's  Fort  on  the  Arkansas. " 

The  boys  wanted  to  shout,  but  Burley  gave 
them  the  sign  of  silence  by  putting  his  hand 
over  his  mouth. 

"We'll  march  right  along  in  the  brush," 
he  whispered,  "as  far  as  the  ponies  have 
grazed,  then  we'll  strike  out  for  the 
hard  prairie!  Good-by  Comanches!  Come 
along,  boys!  We'll  keep  going  till  day 
light." 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

A   BAKING   VENTURE 

SO,  at  last,  the  captives  had  broken 
away.  It  was  a  desperate  venture, 
and  all  three  of  them  realized  the 
risk  they  were  taking. 

They  had  no  arms  of  any  kind,  except  their 
knives,  no  food,  and  no  blankets,  but  Burley 
had  brought  with  him  flint  and  steel  and  a 
piece  of  dry  punk. 

"I  wanted  awfully  bad  to  take  three  extra 
ponies,"  Burley  told  the  boys.  "The 
rascals  owe  us  a  dozen  ponies  for  the  mules 
and  guns  they  have  stolen  from  us,  but  I  was 
afraid  some  scout  would  see  us  catch  them 
and  then  the  whole  game  would  have  been 
off." 

"Jim,  what  would  you  have  done  if  we  had 
run  into  any  of  our  friends  before  we  got  on 
the  way?"  Philip  asked. 

"That's    easy!"    Burley    laughed.    "We 

236 


THE  SILVER  CACHE  237 

weren't  trying  to  run  then.  We  were  looking 
for  ponies  that  had  strayed  away  in  the 
brush  up  the  river.  I  should  have  said  some 
thing  strong  about  that  bunch  of  stray 
ponies  and  returned  to  camp  with  our  friends 
and  waited  for  another  chance. 

"But  it  was  time  to  make  a  break,  for  we 
must  reach  Bent's  Fort  before  the  Santa  Fe 
trains  return  to  the  States. " 

The  boys  wondered  if  the  Indians  would 
try  to  follow  them. 

"You  may  be  sure  they  will,"  Burley  told 
them.  "Buffalo-hunting  gets  very  stale  if 
it  is  your  regular  business  year  in  and  year 
out.  A  man-hunt  will  furnish  the  most  wel 
come  excitement  to  every  lazy  buck  in  camp. ' ' 

"What  will  they  do  to  us,  if  they  catch 
us?"  Philip  asked. 

"  'Do  to  us'?"  repeated  Burley. 
"There'll  be  three  dead  men,  Phil,  and 
they'll  have  a  howling  scalp-dance  for  a 
whole  night.  They  haven't  had  one  since 
they  caught  the  runaway  Mexican  pony- 
herders." 


238  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

"Gee!"  whispered  Ted,  "my  hair  has 
grown  enough  so  that  they  could  easily  yank 
it  off." 

"We  must  not  be  caught,  boys!  That  is 
our  only  salvation,"  Burley  told  them. 
"Let's  go  to  it.  The  ponies  can  run  a  few 
miles  now." 

The  night  grew  chilly,  but  the  riders  did 
not  feel  it.  They  were  riding  for  their  lives. 

About  midnight  Ted  grew  sleepy,  and  sev 
eral  times  Philip  poked  him  saying:  "Don't 
fall  off,  Ted,  and  break  your  bones.  If  you 
don't  keep  awake  we'll  have  to  tie  you  to  the 
saddle." 

When  they  crossed  a  small  creek,  they 
stopped  a  few  minutes  to  let  the  horses 
drink  and  Burley  advised  the  boys  to  dis 
mount  and  rest  their  muscles  a  few  minutes 
and  to  walk  out  on  a  log  for  a  drink. 

"But  don't  step  on  bare,  soft  ground,"  he 
warned  them.  "We  must  not  leave  any  man- 
tracks  at  this  creek.  It  is  only  about  twenty 
miles  from  camp  and  the  scouts  may  be  here 
by  noon." 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  239 

Very  soon  they  were  in  the  saddle  again 
and  traveled  without  stopping  till  dawn,  when 
they  came  upon  a  maze  of  deep  buffalo-trails. 

Burley  stopped  and  looked  around  at  the 
lay  of  the  land.  "Boys,"  he  suggested,  "I 
think  we  '11  cross  the  river  on  these  trails  and 
go  into  camp  on  the  south  side." 

A  suitable  place  was  soon  found  in  low 
timber  on  a  small  creek  between  rugged 
banks,  where  no  trail  ran  up  the  ravine. 

"Now  for  some  breakfast!"  Burley 
laughed.  "We  stay  in  this  hole  till  dark  un 
less  they  drive  us  out." 

The  boys  looked  for  fruit  and  berries  on 
the  trees  and  bushes,  and  they  found  great 
clusters  of  wild  grapes.  Burley  wasted  no 
time  in  that  way,  he  looked  for  their  break 
fast  in  the  creek. 

"Here,  boys,"  he  called  after  a  few 
minutes,  "is  a  hole  full  of  suckers  and  other 
fish.  Now  close  the  hole  down-stream  with 
brush,  and  then  we'll  each  push  a  bundle 
of  brush  up  the  hole  and  drive  them  out  on 
the  riffles." 


240  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

Much  to  the  surprise  of  the  lads  the  plan 
worked  wonderfully,  and  fish  enough  for  two 
meals  were  soon  thrown  out  on  the  grass. 

"Now  clean  them,"  Burley  told  the  boys. 
"I  will  scout  around  a  hit  on  the  hills." 

The  fish  were  cleaned  when  Burley  came 
back.  "Build  a  fire,  Philip,"  Burley  re 
quested.  ' i  I  don  Jt  see  any  Reds,  so  let 's  have 
breakfast." 

A  person  who  has  never  tasted  any  other 
but  home-  and  hotel-cooked  meals  might 
not  have  relished  the  fish,  which  Burley  and 
the  boys  fried  on  green  sticks  over_a  bed  of 
coals  without  salt,  bacon,  or  butter. 

Burley  and  the  boys  had  become  used  to 
eat  their  meals  without  salt  or  any  kind  of 
seasoning,  for  in  those  days  salt  was  seldom 
used  by  the  Plains  Indians,  butter  was  un 
known,  and  bacon  was  a  rare  luxury.  The 
Indians,  however,  did  not  eat  raw  meat,  un 
less  necessity  compelled  them. 

After  breakfast  Burley  stood  guard  till 
noon,  when  Philip  took  his  place  for  the  rest 
of  the  day.  Neither  of  the  guards  saw  any 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  241 

signs  of  Indians  on  either  side  of  the  river. 
At  dark  they  again  started  in  a  general  west 
erly  direction  on  the  south  side  of  the  river, 
after  they  had  caught  enough  fish  to  supply 
them  the  next  day.  This  proved  a  wise  pre 
caution,  for  their  second  camp  was  made  in  a 
brushy  arroyo,  where  no  food  but  disgust 
ing  snakes  and  lizards  could  have  been  se 
cured. 

Burley  now  began  to  hope  that  they  had 
really  outwitted  the  Comanches. 

"I  struck  out  west,"  he  told  the  boys,  "be 
cause  I  figured  that  they  would  naturally 
think  we  had  either  gone  straight  north  to 
hit  the  Santa  Fe  Trail  by  the  shortest  route, 
or  that  we  were  traveling  toward  the  Cim- 
maron  Crossing.  The  only  thing  I  am  really 
afraid  of  now  is  that  we  fall  in  again  with 
some  small  band  of  marauders.  If  we  do,  it 
is  likely  to  be  the  end  of  us,  unarmed  as  we 
are." 

In  the  afternoon,  while  Ted  was  on  guard, 
a  new  idea  struck  Burley,  and  he  and  Philip 
cut  down  three  small,  smooth  cherry-trees. 


242  THE  SILVEE  CACHE 

To  these  war-clubs,  as  Philip  called  them, 
they  affixed  by  means  of  rawhide  thongs  a 
kind  of  butt,  and  then  they  made  the  barrels 
shine  like  dark  metal  by  rubbing  fish-oil  on 
them.  When  the  war-clubs  were  ready, 
Philip  sneaked  up  on  Ted  and  called  out, 
"Look  here,  Ted,  see  the  gun  I  found  in  the 
brush. " 

"Gee!"  exclaimed  Ted,  "it's  a  brand-new 
one !  Don 't  you  point  it  at  me ! ' ' 

"Wake  up,  Ted,"  laughed  Philip,  "I'm 
not  pointing  any  gun  at  you.  You're  asleep 
on  sentry  duty.  Come  along!  I'm  the  of 
ficer  of  the  day  and  arrest  you ! ' ' 

"Phil,  are  you  crazy,  or  am  I?  You're 
sure  pointing  that  gun  at  me,"  exclaimed 
Ted,  growing  angry. 

Not  until  Philip  had  approached  within  a 
few  paces  of  him  did  Ted  discover  that  he 
had  been  fooled  by  a  fake  gun. 

"Here,"  said  Philip,  handing  the  wooden 
gun  to  his  brother,  "let  me  see  how  it  looks 
in  your  hands." 

Burley  and  Philip  had  done  their  work 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  243 

thoroughly.  Every  knot  and  white  spot  on 
the  wood  had  been  smeared  with  mud  and 
charcoal  and  then  rubbed  over  with  fish-oil, 
so  that  the  resemblance  to  a  real  gun  was 
quite  deceiving. 

"Well,"  mused  Philip,  standing  off  a  dozen 
paces  and  looking  at  the  armed  sentry,  "if 
the  Indians  have  no  better  eyes  than  you 
and  I,  these  wooden  clubs  may  fool  them. 
But  I  hope  we  won't  have  to  try  them." 

As  soon  as  it  was  dark,  the  three  men  left 
their  camp.  For  several  hours  they  traveled 
on  the  south  side  of  the  Canadian.  When 
they  came  to  the  next  buffalo  ford,  they 
crossed  back  to  the  north  side  and  struck  out 
in  the  direction  of  Fort  William,  a  well- 
known  trading-post  on  the  upper  Arkansas; 
which  later  became  known  as  Bent's  Fort. 
It  was  located  in  the  present  State  of 
Colorado  about  a  hundred  miles  west  of  the 
Kansas  line  and  was  built  in  1828  by  William 
Bent,  his  two  brothers  and  Ceran  St.  Vrain. 

For  about  twenty  years  Bent's  Fort  was 
the  most  important  trading-post  on  the 


244  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

plains;  and  for  many  years  it  was  the  first 
buildng  west  of  Council  Grove,  a  distance  of 
about  five  hundred  miles. 

What  the  distance  was  from  the  Comanche 
camp  to  Bent's  Fort,  Burley  did  not  know. 

"I  think  it  must  be  between  two  hundred 
and  three  hundred  miles,"  he  explained  to 
the  boys.  "If  our  ponies  don't  play  out  or 
get  sore  feet,  we  ought  to  make  forty  or  fifty 
miles  a  night  and  reach  Bent's  Fort  in  about 
a  week." 

Ted  was  worried  how  Burley  could  find  the 
fort,  if  he  had  never  been  over  the  country 
through  which  they  were  traveling. 

"Well,  sonny,  that's  easy  enough,"  ex 
plained  Burley.  "You  see  I  have  a  sort  of 
a  big  map  of  the  country  in  my  head.  I 
know  the  Arkansas  is  the  first  large  river  we 
strike  by  going  north  or  northwest.  I  have 
traveled  along  that  river  from  Walnut 
Creek,  near  its  great  bend,  clear  to  the 
mountains.  I  know  that  the  fort  lies  east  of 
the  mountains,  and  I  know  the  Arkansas 
Eiver  when  I  see  it.  You  will  know  it,  too. 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  245 

All  the  other  streams  we  have  to  cross  are 
just  creeks,  and  I'm  afraid  we  shall  find  some 
of  them  bone-dry  at  this  season. " 

"Do  you  think  we  can  learn  anything  of 
Father  at  Bent's  Fort?"  asked  Ted. 

"That  is  just  the  place  where  we  ought  to 
find  out  about  him.  All  the  Indians  of  the 
plains  trade  there,  and  the  white  trappers 
and  mountaineers  also  go  there  to  sell  their 
furs  and  buy  their  provisions. 

"Boys,  I  shouldn't  be  much  surprised  if  we 
find  your  father  there." 

"Won't  the  Indians  get  us  there?"  asked 
Ted  wistfully. 

"No,  sonny,"  laughed  Burley,  "if  we  get 
into  Billy  Bent's  fort  you  can  make  faces  at 
all  the  Indians  on  the  plains." 

Burley 's  fear  that  many  of  the  smaller 
creeks  might  be  dry  proved  to  be  well- 
founded.  The  farther  west  they  traveled, 
the  drier  the  country  became  and  the  more  it 
appeared  deserted  of  all  game. 

The  boys  began  to  wonder  what  they  would 
eat,  when  the  fish  were  all  consumed;  but 


246  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

Burley  said  lie  was  not  worried  about  secur 
ing  enough  food. 

"Do  you  see  that  prairie-dog  town?"  he 
asked,  pointing  up  a  dry  creek  on  which  they 
had  made  their  camp.  "Run  over  and  kill 
half  a  dozen  of  them  with  sticks  or  clubs. 
That  will  give  us  meat  for  another  day.  It's 
a  poor  plainsman  who  cannot  find  food  on  the 
prairie  in  summer;  only  you  don't  want  to  be 
too  particular.  It's  a  case  of  eating  what  you 
can  get." 

The  lads  looked  a  little  squeamish  when 
Burley  roasted  three  of  the  animals  over  a 
fire  of  buffalo  chips. 

"Ugh,"  remarked  Ted,  "they  look  like 
cats.  I  can't  eat  them,  even  if  I  do  feel  half- 
starved." 

"Never  mind  what  they  look  like,"  ob 
served  Burley,  as  he  began  his  meal;  "they 
taste  like  chickens,  and  they  live  on  grass  and 
roots  just  like  rabbits.  If  you  fellows  wish 
to  fast  a  day,  I'll  eat  your  share,  so  it  won't 
spoil  on  us." 

The  lads  soon  found  that  Burley  was  right. 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  247 

"If  somebody  had  not  tagged  a  'dog'  to 
their  name  they  would  be  excellent  game. 
Just  call  them  ground- rabbits  and  they'll 
taste  fine,"  Burley  told  them  while  he  was 
finishing  his  meal. 

To  find  water  at  this  camp  was  more  diffi 
cult,  but  the  ponies  gave  them  a  hint  where 
it  might  be  discovered  by  digging  with  their 
forefeet  in  a  low  place  in  the  sandy  bottom 
of  the  creek.  The  three  men  at  once  fell  to 
digging  with  their  hands  and  in  a  short  time 
had  dug  a  well,  which  furnished  enough  water 
for  both  horses  and  men. 

The  hardest  part  of  the  trip  was  sleeping 
without  blankets  or  extra  clothing  and  stand 
ing  guard. 

However,  standing  guard  was  absolutely 
necessary.  Several  times  they  saw  parties 
of  Indians  at  a  distance,  but  the  travelers 
were  never  discovered  until  one  afternoon 
when  according  to  Burley 's  reckoning  they 
were  camping  within  fifty  miles  of  the 
Arkansas.  At  this  place  Ted  saw  four 
mounted  Indians  riding  directly  toward  their 


248  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

camp  in  a  ravine ;  the  Indians  being  evidently 
in  search  of  water. 

Ted  gave  the  alarm,  and  Burley  and  Philip 
at  once  agreed  that  it  was  impossible  to  avoid 
discovery,  so  all  three  at  once  mounted  and 
started  north. 

The  Indians  no  sooner  saw  the  three  travel 
ers  than  they  started  in  pursuit  at  full  speed. 
The  white  men  did  not  dare  to  put  their 
horses  to  the  test  at  once  for  fear  that  they 
might  give  out;  moreover,  Burley  said,  if 
they  showed  fear,  the  Indians  would  dog 
their  trail  till  they  overtook  them. 

To  the  great  relief  of  the  white  men  the 
reds  were  armed  only  with  spears  and  bows 
and  arrows. 

"Lads,  we'll  have  to  try  the  guns  on 
them,"  Burley  decided.  "They'll  run  us 
down  if  we  don't." 

So  they  halted  and  Burley  signaled  the 
savages  not  to  approach,  but  they  paid  no  at 
tention  to  his  signal.  Then  Burley  pointed 
his  gun  at  them,  and  the  savages  slackened 
their  speed. 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  249 

"At  them,  fellows!"  ordered  Burley. 
"Act  as  if  you  could  blow  them  to  hell." 
And  with  these  words  the  three  rode  forward 
a  few  paces,  then  stopped  and  boldly  pointed 
their  wooden  guns. 

That  bold  maneuver  brought  the  Indians 
to  a  stop  at  a  hundred  yards. 

"Who  are  you?"  signaled  Burley. 

"Comanche,"  came  the  answer.  "Who 
are  you?" 

"Hunters,"  Burley  replied.  "Don't  come 
near!"  and  then  he  turned  his  horse  and  he 
and  the  boys  rode  slowly  away. 

When  they  crossed  over  a  rise  of  ground, 
they  saw  some  scattered  timber  near  the  head 
of  a  creek  about  a  mile  away  and  rode 
toward  it  at  an  easy  gallop. 

The  Indians,  who  had  been  following  them 
at  a  distance  they  thought  safe,  stopped  when 
the  white  men  entered  the  timber. 

"Are  they  going  to  attack  us?"  asked  Ted 
much  excited. 

*  *  No,  they  will  not  come  near.  Our  wooden 
guns  did  the  trick." 


250  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

For  a  while  red  and  white  man  watched 
one  another,  then  the  Indians  rode  slowly 
away,  believing  the  whites  too  well  armed. 

As  soon  as  the  Comanches  were  out  of 
sight,  the  white  travelers  continued  their 
journey  and  soon  found  that  they  were  nearer 
the  Arkansas  than  they  had  reckoned. 
About  midnight  they  crossed  the  big  river  by 
taking  hold  of  the  tails  of  their  horses  as  the 
animals  swam  the  deep  water  in  mid-stream. 

The  water  was  bitterly  cold,  and  for  sev 
eral  hours  the  three  men  trotted  along  beside 
their  horses  to  keep  themselves  warm. 

At  dawn  they  could  see  the  adobe  walls 
and  the  bastions  of  the  big  fort.  Just  as  the 
sun  rose  like  a  big  red  ball  out  of  the  prairie 
they  knocked  with  their  wooden  guns  at  the 
gate  of  the  fort,  shivering,  ragged,  and  ex 
hausted,  but  jubilant  of  heart.  They  had 
escaped  from  the  Comanches  and  crossed 
safely  over  three  hundred  miles  of  wild 
prairie  with  nothing  but  the  sun  and  the 
stars  to  guide  them,  and  with  no  arms  but 
their  knives  and  the  pretended  guns. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

AT  THE  GREAT  ADOBE  FOET 

NO  sooner  had  they  entered  the  fort, 
than  the  boys  saw  that  from  the  bas 
tions  and  through  the  port-holes  of 
this  stronghold  they  could  indeed  laugh  at  all 
the  Indians  on  the  plains.  The  walls  of  sun- 
dried  brick  were  three  feet  in  thickness,  and 
Colonel  William  Bent,  one  of  the  owners,  had 
a  force  of  twenty-five  well-armed  and  fear 
less  men  under  him,  while  the  two  cannons 
in  the  bastions  alone  would  have  thrown  the 
whole  Comanche  nation  into  a  panic. 

Captain  Harley's  train  had  not  yet  re 
turned  from  Santa  Fe,  but  it  was  known  in 
the  fort  that  three  of  his  men  had  been  cap 
tured  or  killed  by  Comanche  raiders.  But 
more  welcome  to  the  boys  than  anything  else 
was  the  news  Colonel  Bent  told  them  of  their 
father.  He  had  in  some  way  escaped  from 

251 


252  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

the  Pawnees  and  had  joined  some  trappers 
in  the  foothills  and  Colonel  Bent  felt  sure 
that  before  winter  set  in  he  would  come  to 
the  fort  with  them. 

"I  knew  they  wouldn't  get  Father,  I  knew 
they  wouldn't  get  him,"  Ted  exclaimed, 
wildly  throwing  up  his  arms  and  almost 
choking  on  a  big  mouthful  of  cornbread. 
"He'll  come  back  or  we'll  go  and  find  him. 
Can't  we,  Mr.  Burley?" 

"We  need  some  rest  and  sleep,"  Burley 
tried  to  calm  the  excited  boy,  "after  that  we 
can  talk  about  going  to  the  mountains." 

For  several  days  Burley  and  the  lads  did 
nothing  but  eat  and  sleep;  for  the  boys  had 
been  almost  exhausted  with  cold,  fatigue,  and 
loss  of  sleep. 

"I  was  mighty  glad,"  Burley  explained  to 
Colonel  Bent,  "that  we  were  nearer  the  river 
and  the  fort  than  I  thought  we  were.  Both 
the  boys  and  the  horses  were  beginning  to 
play  out,  although  the  boys,  especially  the 
little  fellow  would  not  acknowledge  that  they 
were  used  up." 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  253 

About  going  to  the  mountains  in  search  of 
their  father,  the  boys  were  disappointed. 
Burley  would  not  listen  to  it.  Colonel  Bent 
also  said  it  would  be  a  hare-brained  plan,  and 
if  the  lads  were  in  any  hurry  to  get  killed, 
they  could  stand  up  in  front  of  his  big 
cannon. 

"A  brave  plainsman,"  he  continued,  "like 
Burley  sometimes  saves  his  hair  out  of  a 
desperate  scrape,  but  he  does  not  go  and  ask 
the  Indians  to  scalp  him.  Burley  is  right, 
you  fellows  stay  right  here.  I  don't  know 
where  your  father  is.  He  may  be  a  hundred 
or  three  hundred  miles  from  the  fort.  If  he 
is  alive,  he  will  come  in  some  day;  for  In 
dians  and  trappers  for  five  hundred  miles 
around  come  to  this  fort  to  trade.  You  were 
all-fired  lucky  that  Burley  brought  you  into 
the  fort  with  nothing  but  wooden  clubs.  I 
won't  sell  you  any  guns.  You  stay  here  till 
your  father  comes  in  or  till  you  go  home  with 
a  train  from  Santa  Fe. ' ' 

Another  talk  with  Burley  convinced  the 
boys  that  leaving  the  fort  would  be  foolish, 


254  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

and  they  submitted  to  the  inevitable  with  as 
good  grace  as  possible. 

They  worked  in  the  fort,  helped  the  men 
with  the  big  buffalo-skin  press,  or  went  with 
them  on  short  hunting-trips  after  deer  and 
buffalo  near  the  fort.  There  was  plenty  to 
do  and  to  see.  Indians  came  to  the  fort  to 
trade  and  to  be  fed,  and  several  parties  of 
hunters  and  trappers  of  Colonel  Bent  came 
and  went ;  but  none  brought  any  more  news  of 
Silas  Benson. 

Time  wore  on  slowly  for  the  boys.  The 
month  of  September  passed,  the  days  grew 
short  and  the  nights  very  cold;  for  Bent's 
Fort  lay  about  eight  thousand  feet  above  sea 
level. 

One  morning  early  in  October  a  small  train 
of  pack-animals  was  reported  approaching 
the  fort  from  the  north.  The  boys  with 
Burley  and  Colonel  Bent  at  once  climbed  into 
one  of  the  bastions,  from  which  a  good  view 
could  be  gained. 

"Are  they  Indians  or  white  trappers !" 
the  boys  asked  anxiously. 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  255 

There  were  four  horsemen  and  seven  or 
eight  pack-animals,  mules,  or  horses. 

When  the  train  had  approached  within  a 
mile,  hoth  Burley  and  Colonel  Bent  said: 
"They  are  white  men.  A  party  of  trappers 
coming  from  the  foothills  or  the  mountains 
with  a  big  haul.  All  their  animals  can  carry, 
or  they  would  not  come  in  till  spring. ' ' 

"May  we  ride  out  to  meet  them?"  asked 
the  boys,  and  within  a  few  minutes  the  boys 
galloped  out  of  the  gate,  while  Colonel  Bent 
and  Burley  remained  in  the  bastion. 

There  seemed  to  be  some  kind  of  commo 
tion  when  the  two  parties  met.  The  train 
stopped,  but  the  two  men  in  the  tower  could 
not  see  exactly  what  happened.  There  were 
some  wild  yells  apparently  coming  from  the 
whole  party  and  then  Ted  seemed  to  tumble 
off  his  horse  and  began  to  dance  and  jump 
wildly  around  on  the  prairie.  Then  he  yelled 
something  toward  the  fort.  Now  he  jumped 
on  his  horse  again  and  raced  like  mad  to  the 
fort  yelling  at  the  top  of  his  shrill  voice, 
"He's  come,  he's  come!  Father's  here!" 


256  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

To  tell  how  Benson  had  escaped  from  the 
Pawnees  and  how  he  had  lived  almost  a  year 
with  the  trappers  in  the  mountains  and  the 
foothills  would  make  too  long  a  story.  In 
his  flight  from  his  captors  he  had  lost  his 
horse,  had  himself  been  wounded,  but  had 
killed  a  pursuing  Pawnee.  His  captors,  he 
knew,  would  expect  him  to  strike  out  for 
Bent's  Fort,  so  he  went  almost  in  the  op 
posite  direction,  struck  boldly  out  for  the 
mountains,  knowing  that  on  foot  and  weak 
from  loss  of  blood  he  could  not  hope  to  reach 
Bent's  Fort.  He  knew  that  several  parties 
of  white  trappers  were  working  west  of  the 
Pawnee  camp,  and  he  had  followed  the  head 
waters  of  the  Eepublican  River  until  he 
reached  the  camp  of  the  men  with  whom  he 
had  now  come  to  the  fort.  He  had  dropped 
exhausted  upon  reaching  the  trappers'  camp, 
and  these  rough  but  withal  chivalrous 
knights  of  the  wilderness  had  nursed  him 
back  to  life  and  health.  After  the  things 
that  had  happened  he  did  not  dare  to  cross 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  257 

the  Pawnee  country  alone,  for  he  knew  that 
if  the  Indians  captured  him  a  second  time, 
they  would  not  give  him  an  opportunity  to 
escape. 

About  a  week  later  Captain  Harley's  train 
drew  into  the  fort,  and  that  night  there  was 
a  great  feast  and  a  dance,  although  there 
were  only  two  white  women  and  a  few  Indian 
women  in  the  whole  fort. 

Burley's  story  of  the  wooden  guns  the  men 
would  not  believe.  "Burley,"  drawled 
Shawnee  Pete,  "you  were  always  a  devil 
of  a  fellow,  all  right.  I'll  admit  that.  But 
you  are  also  the  biggest  liar  I  ever  seen." 

But  when  a  minute  later,  Burley  and  the 
boys  marched  solemnly  into  the  room  with 
their  fishy-smelling  guns,  a  howl  of  delight 
went  up  from  the  men. 

A  mock  court  was  at  once  convened  and 
Shawnee  Pete  was  with  great  solemnity  con 
demned  to  be  led  out  into  the  corral  of  the 
fort,  there  to  be  roasted  alive  by  three 
savage-looking  Cheyennes,  who  with  a  stolid 


258  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

face,  grunted  their  approval  of  the  sentence 
of  the  court  and  their  willingness  to  carry  it 
into  effect. 

Ted  had  been  breathlessly  watching  the 
trial.  "Phil,  are  they  going  to  burn  him?" 
he  asked,  as  two  men  led  the  prisoner  away. 
But  much  to  Ted's  relief  they  did  not  lead 
him  into  the  corral,  but  into  the  big  dining- 
room  where  Shawnee  Pete  was  allowed  to 
pay  in  a  manner  agreeable  to  the  court,  the 
jury,  and  the  spectators  for  insulting 
Truthful  Jim. 

When,  after  a  day  of  rest  and  visiting, 
Captain  Harley's  train  pulled  out  for  Inde 
pendence,  Burley  and  the  three  Bensons 
joined  the  train.  Silas  Benson  had  made  a 
good  catch  of  fur,  which  he  exchanged  for 
guns,  pistols,  ammunition  and  sundry  other 
goods  packed  in  suitable  boxes  and  bales. 

"You  could  buy  these  goods  much  cheaper 
at  Independence  than  I  can  sell  them  to 
you,"  Colonel  Bent  suggested. 

"That  is  true,  Colonel,"  Benson  admitted, 
"but  I  expect  to  use  them  before  I  get  there. 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  259 

I'm  not  through  with  this  trail  and  the  all- 
blasted  Pawnees.  I  saw  three  Pawnee 
thieves  ride  away  with  all  I  made  by  hard 
dangerous  work  in  three  years.  The  Com- 
anches  jumped  the  bunch  of  Pawnees  before 
they  could  get  away.  Two  fellows  carrying 
the  coin  were  overtaken  and  killed.  Two 
others  had  me  bound  and  tied  to  the  horse. 
We  got  away.  I  think  a  third  Pawnee  also 
got  away.  The  Comanches  did  not  get  my 
silver,  or  Burley  and  the  boys  would  have 
seen  indications  of  it.  I  know  that  the 
Pawnees  haven't  got  it,  or  I  should  have 
noticed  it. 

" Where  is  it?  Who  has  it?  Have  any 
Indians  shown  silver  or  gold  chains  in  the 
fort?" 

Colonel  Bent  had  not  seen  any  gold  or 
silver  with  any  of  the  Indians  that  had 
traded  at  his  fort. 

"Then  where  is  it!"  Benson  repeated. 
"The  stuff  was  in  two  bags  weighing  about  a 
hundred  pounds  each,  and  about  half  of  it 
was  gold.  Their  ponies  couldn't  make  time 


260  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

with  such  loads,  so  they  jumped  off  and 
chucked  it,  cached  it  somewhere  in  the  woods 
on  Pawnee  Fork. 

"Now  you  know  why  I  bought  a  lot  of 
artillery  and  a  few, — well,  a  few  mining-tools. 
But  keep  it  dark,  it's  not  a  good  story  to  pass 
around. 

"Good-by,  Colonel!  and  if  you  ever  lose 
any  boys  or  get  into  a  tight  fix,  I'll  do  for 
Colonel  Bent  what  he  did  for  me  and  mine. 
So  help  me  God!" 


CHAPTEE  XXVI 

A   KNOTTY   PROBLEM 

CAPTAIN  BARLEY'S  caravan  left 
Bent's  Fort  in  high  spirits.  They 
had  done  well  at  Santa  Fe.  The 
trip  had  certainly  not  been  monotonous,  but 
their  lost  men  had  safely  returned.  The 
caravan  was  traveling  light,  and  in  spite  of 
the  short  days  was  making  good  time.  The 
weather  was  delightfully  cool,  so  that  neither 
men  nor  animals  suffered  from  heat.  Their 
route  led  down  the  Arkansas  River  as  far  as 
the  Great  Bend,  so  they  knew  that  good  grass 
and  water  would  be  plentiful. 

Every  evening  there  were  great  gatherings 
around  the  camp-fires ;  for  the  evenings  were 
long  now  and  the  men  had  many  stories  to  ex 
change.  Benson's  experiences  amongst  the 
Pawnees  and  the  trappers  would  alone  have 
filled  a  book. 

261 


262  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

Benson  had  arranged  with  the  wagon- 
master  to  have  the  train  camp  at  Pawnee 
Fork,  whenever  they  should  reach  that 
creek. 

Captain  Harley  was  glad  to  spend  a  day 
with  Burley  and  Benson  looking  over  the 
scene  of  the  Pawnee  attack  on  Benson  and  his 
partner. 

"Every  plainsman  is  caught  off  his  guard 
once, ' '  said  Benson,  relating  the  story  of  the 
hold-up.  "This  is  the  spot  where  Jack 
Fridley  and  I  were  caught  napping.  We 
had  not  seen  an  Indian  or  a  white  man  since 
we  left  Bent's  Fort.  I  proposed  to  travel 
over  this  dangerous  stretch  from  Pawnee 
Fork,  past  Pawnee  Eock  and  across  the 
Walnut  at  night,  when  the  red  thieves  are 
seldom  about,  but  Jack  was  in  a  great  hurry 
to  get  home,  for  he  had  not  seen  his  wife  and 
children  in  St.  Louis  for  two  years,  so  I  let 
him  have  his  way. 

"  'You  are  clean  bughouse  on  Indians,' 
he  railed  at  me,  laughing.  *  Believe  me,  they 
are  denned  up  like  the  gophers  and  prairie- 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  263 

dogs.  Moreover,  not  a  soul  knows  we  are 
going  to  pass  here! 

"  ' Don't  tell  me/  he  laughed,  'that  those 
two  Pawnees  who  saw  us  at  the  fort  would 
ride  three  hundred  miles  over  a  cold  wintry 
prairie  to  tell  the  tribe  that  they  might  catch 
two  white  men  and  four  mules.' 

"  'They  wouldn't  tell  the  tribe/  I  argued 
with  him;  'they  would  just  get  three  or  four 
rogues  to  join  them,  that  would  be  plenty  to 
make  it  hot  for  us.' 

"Well,  here  is  the  spot.  The  mules  were 
going  at  a  walk.  All  at  once  they  stopped. 
Five  or  six  Indians  just  rose  out  of  the  brush. 
One  stopped  the  mules,  one  fired  at  Fridley 
and  pulled  him  off  the  wagon,  and  two  men 
poked  their  guns  into  my  face,  before  I  saw 
there  was  any  Indian  on  my  side. 

"Two  men  hustled  Fridley  off  toward  the 
river.  Two  others  put  me  on  a  horse,  tied 
my  hands  in  front  of  me  and  tied  my  feet 
with  a  rope  passed  under  the  pony's  belly. 

"Fridley  fired  his  pistol  and  I  think  killed 
or  wounded  one  man.  I  never  had  a  chance 


264  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

even  to  grab  my  pistol  and  don't  know  what 
became  of  it. 

"Well,  all  I  can  say  is  they  got  us  right, 
found  us  napping  like  a  couple  of  green  kids. 
Phil  and  Ted  couldn't  have  made  a  poorer 
showing.  It  makes  me  mad  every  time  I 
think  of  it." 

Benson  was  silent  as  if  overcome  anew  with 
chagrin  at  having  been  trapped  by  Indians. 

"I  swear,"  he  began  again,  "if  I  hadn't 
seen  the  Pawnees  with  my  own  eyes,  I  would 
have  vowed  the  whole  affair  was  a  well- 
planned  hold-up  by  white  cut-throats.  It 
wasn't  done  in  the  Indian  way.  It  was  too 
bold,  absolutely  reckless,  and  all  over  before 
you  could  say  Jack  Robinson.  I  believe  to 
this  day  that  the  thing  was  planned  by  a 
white  road-agent,  but,  if  a  white  man  had  a 
hand  in  it,  he  was  dressed  and  painted  like 
an  Indian.  Oh,  but  give  me  a  chance  to  draw 
a  bead  on  some  of  my  Pawnee  friends!" 

The  three  men  went  over  to  the  copse 
where  Burley  and  the  boys  had  found  the 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  265 

bones  and  the  piece  of  a  coat.  Benson  gave 
one  look  at  the  piece  of  cloth. 

"It's  a  piece  of  the  coat,"  he  spoke  in  a 
low  voice  now,  "that  Fridley  wore  on  that 
last  ride.  The  brutes  murdered  him  right 
here." 

"What  did  you  do  with  your  coin-bags ?" 
asked  Harley.  "Show  us  where  you  saw 
them  last." 

'  *  Two  men  took  a  bag  each,  and  two  others 
told  me  to  come  along  with  them.  We  all 
rode  west  along  the  south  side  of  the  creek. 
When  we  had  gone  a  few  rods,  one  of  the  men 
with  the  coin-bag  called,  'Comanche!'  I 
looked  back  and  saw  about  a  dozen  Indians 
coming  after  us  full  tilt,  and  I  saw  three  men 
with  the  coin-bags.  Then  my  two  captors 
jabbed  their  spears  into  my  pony  and  into  my 
back  and  called,  'Run,'  and  away  we  all  tore 
for  the  heavy  timber. 

"The  three  of  us  got  away  and  rode  all 
night.  The  two  men  who  carried  the  bags 
I  never  saw  again.  Who  the  third  man  was, 


266  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

I  don't  know,  but  an  Indian  known  as  Spotted 
Crow  joined  us  a  day  before  we  reached  the 
Pawnee  camp  on  the  Eepublican  Eiver  and 
had  a  long  talk  with  my  captors.  I  was  lying 
bound  at  the  foot  of  a  tree  too  far  away  from 
them  to  hear  what  they  said. 

4 ' That's  all  I  can  tell  you.  How  I  broke 
away  a  month  later  I  have  already  told  you. 

" There  can't  have  been  more  than  seven 
or  eight  in  the  whole  party.  How  many  the 
Comanches  killed,  and  what  became  of  the 
mules  and  the  wagon  I  don't  know." 

The  three  men  now  went  and  carefully 
searched  the  woods,  where  Benson  and  his 
captors  had  crossed  the  creek.  They  walked 
up  and  down  the  stream  which  was  very  low, 
but  they  found  no  traces  of  dead  Indians  and 
not  a  sign  of  coin-bags. 

"Here  is  my  theory,"  Benson  began  when 
they  had  dismounted  to  rest  a  while.  "The 
two  fellows  who  had  the  coin  realized  they 
could  not  escape  with  the  bags  and  they 
cached  them  somewhere  in  the  timber.  But 
this  delayed  them  long  enough  so  that  the 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  267 

Comanches  overtook  them  and  killed  them. 
The  Comanches  did  not  find  the  coin,  but  they 
took  the  mules,  our  wagon,  guns,  and  every 
thing  else.  They  also  killed  the  Pawnees 
who  had  captured  Fridley. 

"Spotted  Crow  was  the  third  Indian  with 
the  coin-hags.  He  got  away,  but  he  returned 
and  buried  the  bodies  of  the  two  dead 
Pawnees.  The  man  whom  Fridley  shot  was 
a  white  man,  who  had  planned  the  robbery. 
He  was  carried  off  and  killed  by  the 
Comanches,  or  if  he  escaped,  he  left  the 
country  and  is  keeping  mum  about  his  bloody 
work.  If  one  could  search  the  valley,  he 
would  probably  find  our  wagon  on  a  sand-bar 
of  the  Arkansas.  And  the  mules,  I  would 
not  be  surprised  to  find  in  a  corral  at  Inde 
pendence.  ' ' 

Harley  could  suggest  no  other  solution  of 
the  mystery,  but  he  also  expressed  his  belief 
that  a  white  man  had  planned  the  robbery; 
but  he  did  not  think  that  Benson  had  much  of 
a  chance  to  recover  the  bags. 

"You  might  as  well  hunt  for  a  carpet-tack 


268  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

on  the  prairie  as  search  for  your  bags  in  this 
timber  along  Pawnee  Fork,  and  you  are 
likely  to  have  some  more  trouble  with  the 
Beds." 

"Nothing  would  suit  me  better,"  declared 
Benson  whose  fighting  blood  was  up.  "Man, 
we  have  an  armful  of  guns  and  pistols,  and 
ammunition  enough  to  fight  the  whole 
Pawnee  tribe.  Nothing  would  please  me 
better  than  a  chance  to  let  the  sun  shine 
through  a  few  of  my  Pawnee  friends.  That 
scar  on  my  side  still  hurts,  and  I  can  still  feel 
that  infernal  rawhide  around  my  ankles. 

"No,  I'm  not  going  home  till  I  find  that 
Pawnee  cache.  You  send  the  letter  I  gave 
you  to  my  wife  and  tell  her  that  we  are  safe 
and  well,  and  that  no  Indians  can  touch  us. 

"There  are  four  of  us,  and  we  have  a  regu 
lar  arsenal  of  guns.  Why,  man,  I  bought  out 
Colonel  Bent's  stock  of  shooting-irons  that 
were  worth  taking  away.  It  will  be  a  bad 
day  for  the  Pawnees  if  any  of  them  come 
this  way." 

The  next  morning  Captain  Harley's  train 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  269 

started  east,  but  Benson  and  Burley  and  the 
two  boys  pitched  their  camp  in  a  grove  of 
hackberry  trees  on  Pawnee  Fork  a  mile  west 
of  the  crossing  of  the  Santa  Fe  Trail. 


CHAPTER  XXVH 

THE   MYSTEEY   OF   THE   PAWNEE   CACHE 

WHAT  kind  of  a  camp  to  put  up 
was  a  serious  problem  for  the 
four  men. 

A  tepee  would  be  the  quickest  to  build. 
They  had  brought  enough  skins  for  it,  and 
the  necessary  poles  could  be  cut  in  a  few 
minutes;  but  it  would  afford  no  protection 
against  an  attack  from  Indians. 

Benson  suggested  a  sod-house,  such  as  the 
Pawnees  built  in  those  days.  It  would  be 
warm  and  comfortable,  but  the  building  of  it 
would  involve  a  great  deal  of  work;  more 
over,  an  Indian  could  crawl  up  on  the  roof  of 
such  a  house  and  fire  his  gun  or  shoot  his 
arrow  through  the  smoke-hole. 

It  was  true,  as  Burley  suggested,  that  they 
might  not  see  an  Indian  till  spring,  but  it 
was  also  true,  as  Benson  pointed  out,  that 

270 


THE  SILVER  CACHE  271 

they  might  be  attacked  by  one  of  those  small 
roaming  parties  almost  any  day. 

After  talking  the  matter  over  and  consid 
ering  it  from  all  angles,  they  decided  to  put 
up  a  tepee  and  build  a  palisade  of  posts 
around  it. 

The  grove  of  hackberry  trees,  where 
they  had  camped  the  first  night  they  found 
not  suitable  for  a  permanent  camp.  It  was 
surrounded  by  too  many  trees  and  bushes 
that  would  afford  hiding-places  for  lurking 
Indians,  although  it  was  well  sheltered  from 
cold  winds  and  was  close  to  water. 

They  finally  selected  a  level  open  meadow 
far  enough  away  from  any  timber  and  brush, 
so  that  the  bullets  and  arrows  of  any  attack 
ing  Indians  could  do  no  harm.  In  this  spot 
they  set  up  their  skin  tepee.  Then  they  dug 
a  trench  enclosing  a  square  of  about  twenty 
feet.  In  this  trench  they  planted  the  pali 
sade,  making  it  about  ten  feet  high  and  using 
logs  from  six  to  ten  or  twelve  inches  thick. 

Burley  and  Benson  were  good  axmen  and 
they  made  the  chips  fly  lively  from  tall 


272  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

straight  haekberries,  cottonwoods,  and  other 
trees,  while  to  Philip  and  Ted  fell  the  duty  of 
digging  the  trench  about  three  feet  deep. 
The  ponies  also  came  in  for  their  share  of 
the  work.  They  proved  very  useful  for 
dragging  the  logs  to  the  fort,  thus  speeding 
up  the  work  and  relieving  the  men  of  much 
hard  and  tedious  labor;  for  the  logs  had  to 
be  cut  at  some  distance  from  the  fort. 

The  men  all  entered  upon  the  work  in  the 
spirit  of  a  game,  and  they  were  surprised 
themselves  when  the  whole  fort,  as  the  boys 
had  at  once  called  it,  was  completed  in  two 
days. 

"If  Colonel  Bent  could  see  us  at  work/' 
Benson  remarked,  as  they  were  setting  the 
poles  in  the  trench,  "he  would  know  what  I 
wanted  to  do  with  all  the  lumbering  and  min 
ing-tools." 

Four  small  logs  they  had  tied  together  to 
serve  as  a  door;  and  at  the  four  corners  and 
in  the  four  walls  of  the  palisade  they  had 
cut  portholes.  These  portholes  were  about 
seven  feet  above  the  ground,  so  that  no 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  273 

Indian,  although  he  might  have  crawled  up  to 
the  fort  under  cover  of  darkness,  could  poke 
his  gun  through  the  portholes  and  fire  at 
the  inmates  from  the  outside.  On  the  inside 
the  men  had  built  a  running-board  of  two 
flattened  logs  about  three  feet  above  the 
ground.  Thus  they  could  conveniently  look 
through  the  portholes  and  pour  a  raking  fire 
all  around  their  stronghold. 

They  had  now  built  a  comfortable  and  safe 
camp,  where  they  might  stay  all  winter  and 
defy  almost  any  number  of  savages.  The 
stockade  was  large  enough  so  that,  in  case 
of  need,  they  could  take  their  ponies  into  it. 

4 'Well,  boys,"  Benson  remarked  with  a 
chuckle  when  all  was  finished,  "this  place 
isn't  quite  as  strong  as  Colonel  Bent's  fort, 
but  I  think  we  could  stand  off  quite  a  bunch 
of  them." 

"There  is  one  thing  more  to  be  done," 
Burley  suggested.  "We  ought  to  dig  a  well 
inside  the  fort.  If  a  band  of  them  should 
shut  us  in  here  for  several  days,  it  would  be 
very  disagreeable.  If  we  had  water  inside  we 


274  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

could  laugh  at  them  and  tell  them  to  stick 
around  as  long  as  they  liked. " 

The  plan  seemed  a  good  one,  and  they 
spent  half  a  day  in  digging  a  well  in  the 
corner  opposite  the  tepee.  They  found  water 
at  a  depth  of  only  five  or  six  feet;  and  to 
prevent  the  sand  from  coming  in,  they  lined 
the  well  with  dry  poles  from  which  the  bark 
had  been  carefully  removed.  They  avoided 
green  poles  because  their  sap  would  have 
given  a  bad  taste  to  the  water. 

A  safe  camp  having  been  established,  the 
search  for  the  cache  began  in  earnest.  Both 
Benson  and  Burley  were  experienced  plains 
men  and  had  a  good  deal  of  knowledge  of 
Indian  ways,  and  they  tried  to  reason  out 
some  clew  as  to  the  place  where  the  Pawnees 
had  most  likely  cached  the  silver. 

The  Pawnees  were  hard  pressed  by  the 
Comanches,  and  there  was  certainly  no  time 
to  bury  the  coin-bags. 

They  did  not  just  drop  the  money;  for  if 
they  had  done  that,  they  could  have  made 
their  escape.  They  hid  the  silver  somewhere 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  275 

which  delayed  them  long  enough  so  their  pur 
suers  overtook  them  and  killed  them.  Spot 
ted  Crow  who  did  not  carry  a  bag  did  make 
his  escape. 

After  trying  their  best  to  get  some  clew, 
the  men  made  a  thorough  search  in  Pawnee 
Fork.  While  one  man  guarded  the  ponies, 
the  other  three,  with  sharp  poles  probed 
every  likely  place  in  the  creek.  In  every 
deep  hole,  under  every  overhanging  bank, 
under  piles  of  driftwood  and  in  sand-banks 
they  did  not  miss  a  square  foot.  For  a  mile 
above  and  below  the  place  where  Benson  had 
crossed  with  his  captors,  they  searched  the 
bed  and  the  bank  of  the  stream,  until  Burley 
declared:  "If  anybody  ever  lost  a  rat-trap 
on  this  whole  blooming  stretch  of  creek,  we 
would  have  found  it.  I  would  swear  in  court 
that  there  is  no  silver  cached  in  these 
waters." 

Benson  had  felt  so  sure  that  they  would  find 
the  treasure  in  the  creek  that  he  was  com 
pletely  mystified,  when  it  became  certain  that 
they  had  been  following  a  wrong  plan. 


276  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

But  the  four  treasure-hunters  were  not  dis 
couraged.  They  were  sure  that  neither  the 
Comanches  nor  the  escaping  Pawnees  had 
carried  away  the  treasure,  consequently  it 
must  be  cached  somewhere  within  a  mile  of 
Benson's  crossing  place. 

When  they  had  given  up  finding  it  in  the 
creek,  they  looked  in  every  dense  clump  of 
brush  and  in  every  hollow  tree  with  a  cavity 
large  enough  and  close  enough  to  the  ground 
so  that  a  heavy  bag  might  quickly  have  been 
thrust  into  it. 

They  did  find  some  remains  of  the  killed 
Pawnees,  but  not  a  sign  did  they  discover  of 
the  bags,  not  a  single  coin  did  they  rake  up 
under  the  dead  forest  leaves.  After  two 
weeks  of  the  most  painstaking  search  they 
were  completely  baffled. 

"Boys,  we  are  beaten  at  the  game,"  Ben 
son  acknowledged  one  evening  as  they  were 
sitting  around  the  fire  in  the  tepee.  "I  don't 
know  what  to  do  next  or  where  to  look  next. 
I  don't  know  but  that  we  had  better  pack  up 
and  go  home." 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  277 

But  Burley  and  the  boys  would  not  hear 
of  giving  up. 

11  We  had  better  do  some  hunting, "  Burley 
proposed,  "or  I  won't  be  cook  much  longer. 
An  elk  and  a  few  deer  would  keep  us  going 
for  a  while,  and  possibly  while  we  are  hunt 
ing  deer  we  might  stumble  on  that  Pawnee 
cache. ' ' 

They  followed  Burley 's  advice,  and  spent 
a  week  in  hunting  and  scouting  all  along 
Pawnee  Fork  from  its  mouth  at  the  Arkansas 
as  far  as  ten  or  twelve  miles  west.  They  se 
cured  plenty  of  game,  elk,  deer,  and  wild  tur 
keys.  Grouse  and  quail  they  could  have  se 
cured  in  any  quantity  if  this  game  had  not 
been  too  small  for  their  expensive  ammu 
nition;  for  powder  at  Bent's  Fort  cost  fifty 
cents  a  pint  cup. 

Generally  they  traveled  all  four  together 
on  horseback,  but  often  they  dismounted,  and 
while  two  men  stayed  with  the  horses,  the 
other  two  crossed  back  and  forth  over  the 
valley  of  the  creek  like  timber  cruisers  who 
had  instructions  to  make  a  complete  census 


278  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

of  every  tree.  They  found  stone  arrow 
heads,  stone  axes,  clubs  and  knives,  Indian 
graves  and  battle-fields,  for  in  this  very  re 
gion  war-parties  of  many  tribes  had  met  in 
bloody  combat  for  ages. 

November  had  passed  and  December  opened 
with  cold  north  winds  and  light  snow 
flurries.  For  a  few  days  the  white  crystals 
made  of  woods  and  prairie  a  slate  on  which 
were  minutely  recorded  all  the  doings  of  the 
wild  folk,  from  elk,  deer,  and  wolf  to  quail, 
weasel,  and  wild  mice. 

But  the  mystery  they  were  trying  to  solve 
was  growing  deeper.  They  felt  that  they 
knew  every  square  rod  of  the  valley  of  Paw 
nee  Creek  for  five  miles  above  the  crossing 
of  the  Santa  Fe  Trail,  and  yet  of  the  stolen 
treasure  they  had  found  neither  trace  nor 
clue. 

"Benson,"  declared  Burley  one  evening, 
"I  believe  you  made  up  this  story  of  the 
Silver  Cache.  You  have  lived  among  liars 
so  long  that  your  morals  have  become  cor 
rupted.  I  don't  believe  you  had  a  dollar  in 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  279 

your  wagon.  You  blew  it  all  in  at  the  fan 
dangoes  in  Santa  Fe." 

"Well,  Jim/'  replied  Benson  with  a  smile. 
"It  is  true  I  have  knocked  about  with  you 
and  the  likes  of  you  for  a  number  of  years, 
and  if  I  hadn't  lifted  those  bags  into  the 
wagon  with  my  own  hands,  you  could  almost 
make  me  believe  that  I  had  had  a  romantic 
pipe-dream. 

"It  beats  me  what  has  become  of  those 
bags.  Maybe  the  Comanches  got  hold  of 
them,  anyhow,  and  buried  them  among  the 
sand-hills  of  the  Arkansas.  In  that  case, 
they  are  gone ;  lost  for  good. ' ' 

"The  Comanches  did  not  get  them,  or  the 
boys  and  I  would  have  seen  some  gold  and 
silver  coins  in  the  Comanche  camp.  The 
Pawnees  did  not  get  them,  or  you  would  have 
seen  indications  of  it  amongst  the  Pawnees," 
Burley  came  back  at  once. 

"So  where  are  they?  They  are  here, 
somewhere  on  Pawnee  Fork,  because  they 
cannot  be  anywhere  else.  Hang  it,  Benson, 
I  believe  you  hid  them  yourself  and  now  you 


280  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

have  forgotten  the  spot  where  you  salted 
them  down." 

Again  Benson  smiled  with  a  far-away 
look. 

"Jim,  I  wish  I  had  had  a  chance  to  salt 
them  down,  but  those  Eeds  had  too  much  the 
drop  on  me." 

There  was  one  other  thing  that  puzzled 
Benson  and  Burley,  and  that  was  the  entire 
absence  of  Indians  from  the  region.  No  In 
dians  or  signs  of  Indians  had  been  seen  on 
Pawnee  Fork  since  the  four  whites  had  put 
up  their  tepee  stockade. 

A  novice  on  the  plains  would  probably  have 
laughed  at  the  men's  caution  and  careful 
preparation,  but  Benson  and  Burley  knew 
only  too  well  that  the  time  to  prepare  against 
Indians  is  when  there  are  no  signs  of  Indians. 
They  also  knew  that  by  this  time  the  Indians 
had  gathered  in  their  customary  winter  quar 
ters.  The  Arapahoes,  Kiowas,  and  Chey- 
ennes  at  Big  Timber  on  the  upper  Arkansas 
near  Bent's  Fort,  where  wood  for  their  fires 
and  cottonwood  brush  and  bark  for  their 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  281 

ponies  was  plentiful;  the  Pawnees  in  their 
pole-and-sod  houses  on  the  Republican 
River,  north  of  the  Arkansas ;  and  the  Com- 
anches  on  the  Canadian  and  in  the  foothills 
of  the  Rocky  Mountains. 

But  what  had  become  of  the  frequent  small 
war  parties?  The  weather  had  not  been  se 
vere,  and  game  was  plentiful  on  Pawnee 
Fork,  on  Walnut  Creek,  and  on  the  Arkan 
sas. 

Every  day  the  men  roamed  about  scouting 
for  Indian  signs  and  picking  up  such  game 
as  they  came  across.  It  was  on  one  of  these 
hunting  and  scouting  trips  west  of  their  camp 
that  quite  by  accident,  as  Burley  had  pre 
dicted,  they  almost  stumbled  upon  a  clew  of 
the  vanished  treasure. 

Philip  had  wounded  a  turkey,  which  flapped 
out  of  the  tree-tops  and  hid  in  the  tangled 
branches  of  a  fallen  elm.  While  the  young 
hunter  was  looking  for  his  game  he  discov 
ered  one  of  the  coin-bags  apparently  thrown 
hurriedly  under  the  prostrate  branches  and 
all  but  covered  with  dead  leaves. 


282  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

"Oh,  Father  and  Burley,"  the  boy  called, 
' '  come  quick !  Here  is  one  of  the  bags ! ' ' 

It  was  indeed  one  of  the  bags,  still  bear 
ing  the  names  of  Benson  and  Fridley,  but 
the  top  had  been  cut  off  and  every  piece  of 
silver  was  gone. 

"Ah,  I  see,"  murmured  Burley,  "Indian 
took  scalp  and  insides  of  bag.  Indian  had 
sharp  scalping-knife  and  was  in  a  heap  big 
hurry.  Let  Indian  keep  scalp,  but  where 's 
the  insides?" 

For  a  hundred  feet  around  they  searched 
for  the  "insides"  on  their  hands  and  knees, 
raking  over  the  dead  leaves  with  their  hands, 
but  not  a  coin  did  they  find. 

However,  their  discovery  put  new  spirit 
into  them  and  made  them  feel  that,  at  last, 
they  were  hot  on  the  trail  of  their  game. 

"If  we  just  stick  around  and  don't  give 
up,  we'll  find  that  cache  yet,"  Burley  in 
sisted. 

About  a  week  later  they  were  again  look 
ing  for  signs.  It  was  a  cool  sunny  morning, 
and  during  the  night  weeds  and  brush  had 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  283 

been  covered  with  delicate  crystals  of  hoar 
frost.  It  was  on  the  frosted  grass  and  leaves 
that  they  discovered  a  track,  not  a  deer-track 
or  wolf -track,  but  moccasin  tracks,  tracks  of 
real  Indians.  At  last  some  Indians  had 
come  to  the  battle-haunted  region. 

"Look  here,  men,"  Benson  pointed  out, 
"It  isn't  them.  There's  only  one.  Don't 
get  his  track  mixed  with  ours.  Why  is  there 
only  one?  An  Indian  seldom  goes  alone  far 
from  the  main  camp." 

The  trail  led  past  the  fallen  elm,  but  the 
maker  of  it  had  not  stopped  there.  He  had 
gone  straight  to  a  small  level  spot  near  the 
creek,  where  he  had  stirred  the  leaves  with 
his  feet  and  had  poked  in  the  ground  with 
a  stick.  The  trail  and  the  signs  were  all 
fresh,  perhaps  an  hour  or  two  old.  The  In 
dian  had  come  from  the  south  side  of  the 
creek,  and  after  examining  the  small  level 
spot  had  leisurely  crossed  the  creek  and  had 
slowly  walked  up  the  steep  bluffs  north  of 
the  creek. 

The  men  hurried  to  their  cabin  and  re- 


284  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

turned  with  picks  and  spades,  their  miners' 
tools  as  Colonel  Bent  had  called  them. 

"Here  we  do  some  digging,"  Benson  told 
them;  "but  first  let  us  clear  away  the  dead 
leaves.  I  have  a  hunch,  boys:  That  lone 
Indian  was  the  honorable  Spotted  Crow, 
Pawnee  medicine-man  and  cut-throat,  and  he 
was  looking  for  the  buried  treasure.  That's 
why  he  came  all  alone.  ' ' 

When  the  leaves  were  cleared  away 
the  men  saw  that  the  creek  had  flooded  the 
piece  of  ground  in  spring  and  had  covered 
it  with  a  foot  of  mud.  If  the  treasure  was 
buried  here,  Spotted  Crow  had  gone  back  to 
bring  his  squaw  and  daughters  to  dig  it  out 
with  their  hoes. 

For  half  an  hour  the  men  picked  and  dug 
up  the  ground  as  if  they  were  fishermen 
digging  for  angle-worms.  The  wilderness 
has  no  angle-worms,  nor  did  it  yield  any 
silver,  for  not  a  coin  did  they  find. 

"Best  a  minute!"  Burley  called.  "Here, 
Benson,  let  us  take  a  smoke  and  do  a  little 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  285 

thinking.  I  believe  we  are  hot,  but  we  are 
going  it  blind  again. 

"  Those  Pawnees  did  not  scatter  the  silver 
on  the  ground,  and  they  did  not  have  time  to 
dig  a  hole.  The  only  way  to  hide  it  quickly 
was  to  shove  it  into  a  ready-made  hole.  The 
creek  has  covered  and  closed  that  hole  and 
it's  up  to  us  to  find  it." 

All  four  went  to  work  probing  and  sound 
ing  with  picks  and  poles  for  a  covered  hole. 

4  *  Here  is  one !  Here  it  is !"  exclaimed  Ted 
as  he  ran  his  sharp  stick  into  a  buried  wood- 
chuck-hole  under, a  stump. 

With  great  care  Philip  dug  away  the  loose 
soil  and  mulch.  Now  the  entrance  was  clear. 
Philip  lay  down  and  reached  in  as  far  as  he 
could.  For  a  few  seconds  he  felt  around 
quietly,  then  he  jumped  up  as  if  bitten  by 
a  rattlesnake. 

11  Catch  them!  Catch  them!"  he  cried  as 
he  threw  a  handful  of  silver  into  the  air. 
"The  hole  is  full  of  them,  chuck-full  of  them. 
It's  all  there!" 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

HOMEWABD   BOUND 

THEY  had  at  last  found  the  Cache  of 
the  Pawnee.    The  hole  was  as  full 
of  silver  as  a  squirrel's  hoard  is  of 
nuts  or  pine  cones.    And  below  the  silver 
stuck  the  smaller  bag  intact,  filled  with  gold 
coins.     The  second  bag  had  been  too  large 
for  the  hole,  so  the  Pawnee  had  skillfully 
"  scalped "  the  bag,  poured  the  contents  into 
the  hole,  and  thrown  away  the  empty  bag. 

That  evening  there  was  a  big  feast  in  the 
stockade.  The  men  and  boys  feasted  on 
coffee  and  sugar,  hardtack,  elk-tongue,  and 
choice  venison. 

In  the  morning  the  treasure  was  packed  on 
Benson's  and  Burley's  ponies,  while  the  boys 
carried  blankets  and  food.  Each  one  had  his 
gun  and  pistol  loaded  and  carried  his  share 
of  ammunition.  The  stockade,  the  tepee,  and 

286 


THE  SILVER  CACHE  287 

the  mining-tools  they  left  behind,  together 
with  a  handful  of  silver. 

"The  squaw  and  daughters  of  Spotted 
Crow  should  be  rewarded  for  their  long  trip. 
If  they  found  nothing  at  all,  the  old  scoundrel 
would  beat  the  poor  girls."  Burley  re 
marked  with  a  laugh :  l '  There  is  more  silver 
than  they  ever  set  eyes  on." 

The  party  did  not  expect  to  be  pursued, 
but  when  night  came  Burley,  Benson  and 
Philip  changed  standing  guard,  and  the 
ponies  were  staked  out  close  to  the  sleeping 
men. 

"They  caught  me  napping  once,"  Benson 
admitted,  "but  they  will  never  catch  me 
again." 

On  account  of  the  heavy  loads  on  the 
ponies,  the  travelers  had  to  proceed  slowly, 
for  two  ponies  carried  each  about  a  hundred 
pounds  of  the  Pawnee's  cache. 

It  was  now  late  in  December  and  the 
weather  turned  bitterly  cold.  When  they 
reached  the  camping-place  at  Walnut  Creek, 
a  violent  storm  with  sleet  and  snow  was 


288  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

raging,  while  the  temperature  suddenly 
dropped  many  degrees. 

It  was  still  forenoon  and  the  travelers  had 
heen  on  the  way  only  a  few  hours.  They 
could  have  gone  on  in  the  face  of  the  storm, 
but  they  feared  to  exhaust  or  even  lose  their 
horses,  and  in  that  case  one  or  more  men 
would  be  compelled  to  travel  on  foot,  so  they 
decided  to  camp  till  the  storm  had  passed. 

They  built  a  rude  brush  shelter  for  them 
selves  and  a  similar  shelter  for  the  ponies. 
Under  the  lee  of  their  own  shelter  they  kept 
a  fire  going  day  and  night.  Of  course,  they 
slept  Indian-fashion  with  their  heads  under 
cover,  and  during  the  first  night,  when  the 
snow  was  coming  down  thick,  Ted  and  Philip 
were  so  warm  that  Ted  put  his  hand  through 
the  snow  to  let  in  some  fresh  air  under  their 
buffalo  robe. 

How  the  storm  roared  through  the  tree- 
tops,  and  how  the  branches  cracked  and 
groaned  they  scarcely  heard;  for  they  had 
become  accustomed  to  sleep  anywhere  as  long 
as  they  were  warm. 


OP  THE  PAWNEE  289 

The  ponies  also  were  very  comfortable. 
They  were  sheltered  from  the  cutting  blast, 
the  men  had  cut  them  a  liberal  supply  of 
cottonwood  browse,  and  they  had  not  become 
heated  by  an  attempt  to  travel  against  the 
storm. 

The  cold  did  not  trouble  them,  for  their 
hair  had  grown  long  and  thick  and  they  were 
used  to  living  in  the  open  the  year  round 
like  the  wild  and  half -wild  ponies  of  Pawnees 
and  Comanches.  As  long  as  they  had  plenty 
of  grass  or  brush  and  water  or  snow,  they  did 
not  suffer.  Bancroft  Library 

The  only  thing  that  made  the  men  feel  un 
easy  at  their  camp  fire  on  the  Walnut  was 
the  fact  that  straight  north  of  them  on  the 
Republican  River  was  located  a  big  Pawnee 
village.  If  Spotted  Crow  came  back  after 
his  cache,  or  if  any  Pawnees  happened  to  re 
turn  to  their  village,  their  trail  would  lead 
them  close  by  the  white  men's  camp.  Al 
though  it  was  not  likely  that  any  Indians 
would  be  traveling,  while  the  storm  lasted, 
the  white  travelers  kept  one  man  on  guard 


290  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

duty  during  every  hour  of  the  night.  They 
had  learned  the  wisdom  of  watchfulness. 

When  on  the  third  day  the  storm  had  spent 
itself,  they  broke  camp  at  daylight  and  late 
in  the  evening  reached  Cow  Creek,  where 
they  were  less  likely  to  fall  in  with  any  roam 
ing  Pawnees. 

About  midnight  on  Christmas  Eve  they 
reached  Council  Grove,  which  ended  their 
journey  through  the  country  of  savage  and 
hostile  Indians,  but  they  did  not  relax  their 
watchfulness,  for  white  criminals  had  already 
begun  to  infest  the  east  end  of  the  Santa  Fe 
Trail. 

From  now  on  both  men  and  horses  were 
anxious  to  travel  as  fast  as  possible  over  the 
last  hundred  and  fifty  miles  of  the  trail, 
Ted's  pony  setting  the  pace  and  the  other  two 
following. 

On  New  Year's  Eve,  before  Mrs.  Benson 
and  Uncle  Jethro  blew  out  their  candles,  they 
reached  the  home  farm. 

The  mother  of  the  boys  was  speechless  with 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  291 

joy,  while  old  Uncle  Jethro  fairly  bubbled 
over  with  gladness  and  wonder. 

No  word  had  been  received  from  the  trav 
elers  since  Captain  Harley  had  brought  the 
letter  and  news  to  them,  and  while  the 
boys'  mother  had  anxiously  hoped  and 
prayed  for  their  return  from  week  to  week, 
Uncle  Jethro  had  secretly  made  up  his  mind 
that  all  three  of  them  were  lost. 

"I  always  said,"  he  frequently  mumbled 
to  himself  when  he  was  doing  chores  about 
the  barn,  "that  Silas  would  come  to  a  bad 
end.  Silas  was  always  too  much  of  a  dare 
devil. 

"Marian  should  not  have  let  the  boys  go 
on  the  trail,  but  mothers  no  longer  control 
their  boys  as  they  did  when  I  was  young. ' ' 

Silas  Benson  and  his  boys  compelled  Jim 
Burley  to  accept  a  liberal  share  of  the  Paw 
nee  Cache.  Truthful  Jim  took  it  with  a 
strong  protest,  saying:  "A  single  man 
doesn't  need  a  lot  of  money.  I'm  going  back 


292  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

on  the  trail  to  lift  a  few  scalps  of  our  Coman- 
che  and  Pawnee  friends. 

"You  stay  at  home,  Silas,  and  use  your 
dough  for  your  family;  a  married  man  has 
no  business  on  the  trail." 

When  spring  came,  however,  Benson  as 
well  as  Burley  was  much  tempted  to  join  one 
of  the  long  trains;  but  by  the  earnest  en 
treaties  of  Mrs.  Benson  and  the  advice  of 
Uncle  Jethro,  they  were  enabled  to  resist  all 
temptations  and  all  offers. 

"You  should  never  tempt  the  devil  more 
than  once,"  Uncle  Jethro  preached  in  a  high 
voice  and  with  slyly  winking  eyes:  "for  he 
gets  you  sure  the  second  time. ' ' 

When  about  a  dozen  years  later,  the  war 
with  Mexico  broke  out,  Philip  and  Burley 
joined  General  Kearney's  troops,  and  at  the 
close  of  the  war  remained  on  the  Pacific 
Coast. 

Ted  followed  his  youthful  ambition  and 
became  a  Santa  Fe  trader,  until  the  railroad 
replaced  the  old  wagon  trail. 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  293 

Early  in  the  seventies,  Ted  with  a  long  car 
avan  of  wagons  camped  for  the  last  time  on 
Pawnee  Fork.  The  railroad  had  reached  the 
famous  creek.  Long  construction  trains 
loaded  with  ties  and  rails  were  creeping  west 
ward  like  gigantic  snakes.  Crews  of  white 
men  strung  out  the  clanging  rails,  and  men 
with  long  steel  hammers  spiked  them  to  the 
ties,  and  the  clank,  clank,  of  the  iron  trail, 
the  trail  of  a  new  era,  was  heard  for  the 
first  time  on  Pawnee  Fork  and  the  Upper 
Arkansas.  Among  the  sand-hills,  south  of 
the  river,  buffaloes  and  Texas  cattle  were 
grazing  together.  A  herd  of  antelopes  were 
watching  the  caravan  from  the  Arkansas 
bottom.  The  prairie  was  dotted  with  sod- 
houses  and  cabins  of  white  settlers,  and 
under  the  trees  on  Pawnee  Fork,  stood  the 
tepees  of  some  Indians  on  their  way  to  their 
reservations  in  Indian  Territory. 

The  Red  Man  was  leaving  the  great  stage 
of  the  Plains  and  the  White  Man  was  taking 
the  Indian's  place. 


294  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

Much  had  happened  since  the  four  adven 
turers  recovered  the  Silver  Cache  of  the 
Pawnee. 

The  Mexican  War  and  the  long  bitter 
struggle  of  the  Civil  War  were  matters  of 
history.  The  railroad  and  telegraph  had 
come.  The  Indians  of  the  Plains  had  begun 
to  feel  the  strong  arm  of  the  United  States 
Government,  but  they  were  not  really  sub 
dued  until  the  buffaloes  became  extinct  in 
the  early  eighties,  when  the  once  proud  and 
warlike  tribes  had  no  choice  left  them  but 
submission  to  the  white  race,  or  starvation. 

It  was  Ted's  last  trip  over  the  long  trail. 
In  1880  the  railroad  reached  Santa  Fe,  and 
the  trail  and  the  long  trains  of  canvas-cov 
ered  wagons  drawn  by  big  long-horned  oxen 
passed  into  the  world  of  history  and  romance. 

Years  before  this  event,  Kansas  City  at 
the  mouth  of  the  Kaw  or  Kansas  Eiver  had 
wrested  the  Santa  Fe  trade  from  Indepen 
dence,  while  Fort  Leavenworth  had  become 
the  headquarters  for  the  United  States  mil 
itary  operations  against  the  Indians. 


OF  THE  PAWNEE  295 

Where  years  ago  the  ox-trains  needed  three 
months  to  creep  over  the  prairie  trail  from 
the  Missouri  Eiver  to  Santa  Fe,  the  rumbling 
cars  and  shrieking  engines  of  the  steel  trail 
cover  the  distance  in  thirty-six  hours,  running 
in  many  places  over  the  very  ground  and 
fords  of  the  old  ox  trail. 

In  a  few  spots  the  deep  ruts  of  the  ox 
wagons  are  still  visible  among  the  tall  wild 
sunflowers,  but  most  of  the  old  trail  has  been 
leveled  and  buried  by  the  white  man's  plow. 

The  white  man's  plow,  his  highways  and 
railroads,  have  leveled  the  old  Santa  Fe 
Trail,  the  Indian  villages  and  the  Indian 
graves. 

Thousands  of  Indians  are  to-day  citizens 
of  the  United  States  in  the  State  of  Okla 
homa,  and  some  of  them  have  crossed  the 
ocean  to  fight  side  by  side  in  the  trenches  of 
Europe  with  the  descendants  of  the  old 
traders  and  trappers  and  the  Indian  fighters 
of  the  old  United  States  Army. 

A  new  age  has  come.  Gone  are  the  buffalo 
herds,  the  war  chiefs,  and  the  Santa  Fe 


296  THE  SILVER  CACHE 

traders,  never  to  return  to  earth.  But  in 
history  and  romance  the  buffaloes  and  the 
red  warriors  and  the  men  of  the  Santa  Fe 
trail  will  live  forever. 


THE 


ON  THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SIOUX 

The  Adventures  of  Two  Boy  Scouts  on 
the  Minnesota  Frontier 

By   D.    LANQE 

Illustrated    izmo    Cloth    Price,  Net,  $1.25 

THIS  story  was  written  by  a  prominent 
educator  to  satisfy  the  insistent  demand  of 
active  boys  for  an  "  Indian  Story,"  as  well  as 
to  help  them  to  understand  what  even  the  young 
endured  in  the  making  of  our  country.  Vhe  story 
is  based  on  the  last  desperate  stand  of  the  brave 
and  warlike  Sioux  tribes  against  the  resistles? 
tide  of  white  men's  civilization,  the  thrilling 
scenes  of  which  were  enacted  on  the  Minnesota 
frontier  in  the  early  days  of  the  Civil  War. 

"  It  is  a  book  which  will  appeal  to  young  and  ola 
alike,  as  the  incidents  are  historically  correct  and 
related  in  a  wide-awake  manner."  —  Philadelphia 
Press. 

"  It  seems  like  a  strange,  true  story  more  than 
fiction.  It  is  well  written  and  in  good  taste,  and 
it  can  be  commended  to  all  bo»  reader*  and  to  maty 
<*  their  elders."—  Hartford  Times. 

THE  SILVER  ISLAND  OF 
THE   CHIPPEWA 

By   D.   LANQE 

Illustrated    i2mo    Cloth    Price,  Net,  $1.25 

HERE  is  a  boys'  book  that  tells  of  the  famous 
Silver  Island  in  Lake  Superior  from  which 
it  is  a  fact  that  ore  to  the  value  of  $3,089,000 
was  taken^  and  represents  a  youth  of  nineteen 
and  his  active  small  brother  aged  eleven  as 
locating  it  after  eight  months  of  wild  life,  dur 
ing  which  they  wintered  on  Isle  Royale.  Their 
success  and  escape  from  a  murderous  half-breed 
are  due  to  the  friendship  of  a  noble  Chippewa 
Indian,  and  much  is  told  of  Indian  nature  and 
ways  by  one  who  thoroughly  knows  the  subject. 

•«  There  is  no  call  to  buy  cheap,  impossible  stuff 
for  boys'  reading  while  there  is  such  a  book  as  this 
available."  —  Philadelphia  Inquirer, 

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THE  SILVER  ISLAND 
OF  THE  CfflPPEWA 


LOST  IN  THE  FUR  COUNTRY 

By  D.  LANGE 

Illustrated     I2mo    Cloth    $1.25  net 

MR.  LANGE  is  the  superintendent  of 
schools,  St.  Paul,  Minn.,  and  is  famed 
for  his  knowledge  of  both  natural  and 
political  history.  He  is  also  an  expert  in  the 
very  difficult  art  of  interesting  boys  profitably*, 
and  has  proved  it  to  a  very  wide  circle  by  his 
previous  books.  His  third  book,  also  an  In 
dian  story,  has  the  elements  of  popularity: 
mystery,  peril,  and  daring,  told  in  graphic 
style,  and  presenting  Indian  nature  and  the 
general  life  of  the  great  wild  regions  in  the 
North  with  both  charm  and  authority. 

•'  It  is  a  thrilling  story  of  Indian  life.  The 
author  knows  his  subject  thoroughly  and  writes 
with  admirable  simplicity  and  directness." — Ex 
aminer-  Watchman. 

IN  THE  GREAT  WILD  NORTH 
By  D.  LANGE 

Illustrated  by  W.  L.  HOWES      I2mo    Cloth 
Price,  $1.25  net 

THE  story  opens  at  a  Hudson  Bay  trading 
post,  where  the  father  of  a  sturdy 
Scotch  lad,  Steve  McLean,  is  in  charge. 
Wishing  a  home  of  their  own,  Steve  and 
his  father,  with  a  faithful  Indian  as  guide, 
make  a  five-hundred-mile  canoe  trip  to  Red 
River,  and  join  in  one  of  great  historic 
buffalo  hunts,  after  which  they  make  a  thrill 
ing  escape  from  the  hostile  Blackfeet  Indians 
Then  comes  a  most  adventurous  trip  down 
the  Arkansas  River  to  the  Mississippi  and 
thence  to  St.  Louis,  where  the  story  closes 
happily.  It  gives  a  stirring,  accurate  and 
fascinating  account  of  pioneer  life  as  the 
hardy  men  and  boys  of  earlier  days  knew  it. 

"  Mr.  Lange's  volume  gives  a  faithful  account  of  early  pioneer  days  and 
hardships,  introducing  much  valuable  knowledge  of  Indian  craft  and  wild  life." 
—  Philadelphia  Public  Ledger. 

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IN  THE  GREAT 
WILD  NORTH 


U.  S.  SERVICE  SERIES 

By  FRANCIS  ROLT-WHEELER 

fliusirations  from  photographs  taken  in  work  for  U.  S.  Govtrnmeci 
Large  12mo    Cloth    $1.50  each,  net 

"There  are  no  better  books  for  boys  than  if 'rands  Rolt- Wheeler's 
*U.  S.  Service  Series.'  " — Chicago  Rcsord-Herald. 

THE  BOY  WITH  THE  U.  S.  SURVEY™ 

THIS  story  describes  the  thrilling  advent. 
--  ~  — .  -—  »-  ii  ^es  of  members  of  the  U   S.  Geological 

Survey,  graphically  woven  into  a  stirring 
narrative  that  both  pleases  and  instructs.  The 
author  enjoys  an  intimate  acquaintance  with 
the  chiefs  of  the  various  bureaus  in  Washing, 
ton,  and  is  able  to  obtain  at  first  !>and  the 
material  for  his  books. 

"There  Js  abundant  charm  and  vigor  In  the 
narrative  which  is  sure  to  please  the  boy  leaders 
and  will  do  much  toward  stimulating  their  patriot 
isrn  by  making  them  alive  to  the  needs  of  conser 
vation  of  the  vast  resources  of  their  country."— 
Chicago  Nnvs. 

THE  BOY  WITH  THE  U.  S.  FORESTERS 

'"THE  life  of  a  typical  boy  is  followed  in  all  its  adventurous  detail — the 
*  mighty  representative  of  our  country's  government,  though  young  in 
years — a  youthful  monarch  in  a  vast  domain  of  forest:  Replete  with 
information,  alive  with  adventure,  and  inciting  patriotism  at  every  step, 
this  handsome  book  is  one  to  be  instantly  appreciated. 

"  It  is  a  fascinating  romance  of  real  life  in  our  country,  and  wHlprov*  a  great 
pleasure  and  inspiration  to  the  boys  who  read  it." —  The  Continent  t  Chicago. 

THE  BOY  WITH  THE  U.  S.  CENSUS 

•"PH ROUGH  the  experiences  of  a  bright  American  boy,  the  author  shows 
A  how  the  necessary  infoimation  is  gathered.  The  securing  of  this  of 
ten  involves  hardship" and  peril,  requiring  journeys  by  dog-team  in  the 
frozen  North  and  by  launch  in  the  alligator-filled  Everglades  of  Florida, 
while  the  enumerator  whose  work  lies  among  the  dangerous  criminal 
classes  of  the  greater  cities  must  take  his  life  in  his  own  hands. 

"  Every  young  man  should  read  this  story  from  cover  to  cover,  thereby  getting 
a  clear  conception  of  conditions  as  they  exist  to-day,  for  such  knowledge  will  have 
a  clean,  invigorating  and  healthy  influence  on  the  young  growing  aad  thinking 
mind,"— Boston  Globe. 

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U.  S.  SERVICE  SERIES 

By  FRANCIS   ROLT-WHEELER 

Many  illustrations  from  photographs  taken  in  work  for  U.S.  Government 
Large  12m o    Cloth    Net  $1.50  per  volume  • 

41  There  are  no  better  books  for  boys  than  Francis  Rolt- Wheeler's  « U.  S. 
Service  Series.' " — Chicago  Record-Herald. 

THE  BOY  WITH  THE  U.  S.  FISHERIES 

VITITH  &  bright,  active  American  youth  as 
*•  a  hero,  is  told  the  story  of  the  Fisheries, 
which  in  their  actual  importance  dwarf  every 
other  human  industry.  The  book  does  not 
lack  thrilling  scenes.  The  far  Aleutian  Islands 
have  witnessed  more  desperate  sea -fighting 
than  has  occurred  elsewhere  since  the  days  of 
the  Spanish  buccaneers,  and  pirate  craft,  which 
the  U.  Se  Fisheries  must  watch,  rifle  in  hand, 
are  prowling  in  the  Behring  Sea  to-day.  The 
fish-farms  of  the  United  States  are  as  inter 
esting  as  they  are  immense  in  their  scope. 
**  One  of  the  best  books  for  boys  of  all  ages,  so 
attractively  written  and  illustrated  as  to  fascinate 
the  reader  into  staying  up  until  all  hours  to  finish 
it."— Philadelphia  Despatch. 

THE  BOY  WITH  THE  U.  S.  INDIANS 

T^HIS  book  tells  all  about  the  Indian  as  he 
*  really  was  and  is;  the  Menominee  in  his 
birch-bark  canoe;  the  Iroquois  in  his  wigwam  in 
the  forest;  the  Sioux  of  the  plains  upon  his  war- 
pony;  the  Apache,  cruel  and  unyielding  as  his 
arid  desert;  the  Pueblo  Indians,  with  remains  of 
ancient  Spanish  civilization  lurking  in  the  fast 
nesses  of  their  massed  communal  dwellings;  the 
Tlingit  of  the  Pacific  Coast,  with  his  totem-poles. 
With  a  typical  bright  American  youth  as  a  central 
figure,  a  good  idea  of  a  great  field  of  national 
activity  is  given,  and  made  thrilling  in  its  human 
»idebythe  heroism  demanded  by  the  little-known 
adventures  of  those  who  do  the  work  ol  "  Uncle 
Sam." 

"  An  exceedingly  interesting1  Indian  story,  because  it  is  true, 
ft  dramatic  and  picturesque  incident  of  Indian  life."— N.  Y.  Times. 


THEBOYIWITUTHE 
.U.S.FISHERIES 


THE  BOY  WITH  THE 
U.S.INDIANS 


and  not  merely 


44  It  tells  the  Indian's  story  in  st  way  that  will  fascinate  the  youngster.**** 
Rochester  Herald. 

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U.  S.  SERVICE  SERIES 

By  FRANCIS  ROLT-WHEELER 

Many  illustrations  from  photographs  taken  in  work  for  U.  S.  Government 
Large  12mo    Cloth    Net,  $1.50  each 

"  There  are  no  better  books  for  boys  than  Francis  Rolt- Wheeler's  'U.  S. 
Service  Series.'" — Chicago  Record- Her  aid. 

THE  BOY  WITH  THE  U.  S.  EXPLORERS 

THE  hero  saves  the  farm  in  Kansas,  which  his  father  is  not  able  to 
keep  up,  through  a  visit  to  Washington  which  results  in  making  the 
place  a  kind  of  temporary  experiment  station.  Wonderful  facts  of  plant 
and  animal  life  are  brought  out,  and  the  boy  wins  a  trip  around  the  world 
with  his  friend,  the  agent.  This  involves  many  adventures,  while 
exploring  the  Chinese  country  for  the  Bureau  of  Agriculture. 

"  Boys  will  be  delighted  with  this  story,  which  is  one  that  inspires  the  readers 
with  the  ideals  of  industry,  thrift  and  uprightness  of  conduct." — Argus-Leader- 
Portland,  Me. 

THE  BOY  WITH  THE  U.  S.  LIFE  SAVERS 

TTHE  billows  surge  and  thunder  through 
•*•  this  book,  heroism  and  the  gallant  facing 
of  peril  are  wrought  into  its  very  fabric,  and 
the  Coast  Guard  has  endorsed  its  accuracy. 
The  stories  of  the  rescue  of  the  engineer 
trapped  on  a  burning  ship,  and  the  pluck  of 
the  men  who  built  the  Smith's  Point  Light 
house  are  told  so  vividly  that  it  is  hard  to 
keep  from  cheering  aloud. 

"This  is  an  ideal  book  for  boys  because  it  is 
natural,  inspiring,  and  of  unfailing  interest  from 
cover  to  cover." — Marine  Journal. 

THE  BOY  WITH 

THE  U.  S.  MAIL 

[OW  much  do  you  know  of  the  working  of  the  vast  and  wonderful 
Post  Office  Department?  The  officials  of  this  department  have,  as 
in  the  case  of  all  other  Departments  covered  in  this  series,  extended  their 
courtesy  to  Dr.  Rolt-Wheeler  to  enable  him  to  tell  us  about  one  of  the 
most  interesting  forms  of  Uncle  Sam's  care  for  us. 

"  Stamp  collecting,  carrier  pigeons,  aeroplanes,  detectives,  hold-ups,  tales  of 
the  Overland  trail  and  the  Pony  Express,  Indians,  Buffalo  Bill  — what  boy  would 
not  be  delighted  with  a  oook  in  which  all  these  fascinating  things  are  to  be  found?" 
—  Um-versalist  Leader. 

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THE  BOY  WITH  THE 
U.S.LIFESAVE 


THE  BOY  ELECTRICIAN 

Practical  Plans  for  Electrical  Toys  and   Apparatus,  with  an 
Explanation  of  the  Principles  of  Every-Day  Electricity 

By  ALFRED  P.  MORGAN 

Author  of  "Wireless  Telegraphy  Construction  for  Amateurs"  and 

"  Wireless  Telegraphy  and  Telephony"    300  illustrations 

and  working  drawings  by  the  author    Net,  $2.00 

Postpaid,  $2.25 


THIS  is  the  age  of  electricity.  The  most 
fascinating  of  all  books  for  a  boy  must, 
therefore,  be  one  dealing  with  the  mystery  of 
this  ancient  force  and  modern  wonder.  The 
best  qualified  of  experts  to  instruct  boys  has 
in  a  book  far  superior  to  any  other  of  its  kind 
told  not  only  how  to  MAKE  all  kinds  of 
motors,  telegraphs,  telephones,  batteries, 
etc.,  but  how  these  appliances  are  used  in 
the  great  industrial  world. 


"Of  all  books  recently  published  on  practical  electricity  for  the  youth. 
ful  electricians,  it  is  doubtful  if  there  is  even  one  among-  them  that  is  more 
suited  to  this  field.  This  work  is  recommended  to  every  one  interested  in 
electricity  and  the  making  of  electrical  appliances." 

Popular  Electricity  and  Modern  Mechanics 

"This  is  an  admirably  complete  and  explicit  handbook  for  boys  who  fall 
under  the  spell  of  experimenting  and  "tinkering"  with  electrical  apparatus. 
Simple  explanations  of  the  principles  involved  make  the  operation  readily 
understandable."  Boston  Transcript. 

"  Any  boy  who  studies  this  book,  and  applies  himself  to  the  making  and 
operating  of  the  simple  apparatus  therein  depicted,  will  be  usefully  and  happily 
employed.  He  will,  furthermore,  be  developing  into  a  useful  citizen.  For  this 
reason  we  recommend  it  as  an  excellent  gift  tor  all  boys  with  energy,  appli- 
cation,  and  ambition."  Electrical  Record,  N.  Y.  City, 

"A  book  to  delight  the  hearts  of  ten  thousand  —  perhaps  fifty  thousand  — 
American  boys  who  are  interested  in  wireless  teiegranhy  and  that  sort  of  thing. 
Any  boy  who  has  even  a  slight  interest  in  things  eiectrical,  will  kindle  with 
enthusiasm  at  sight  of  this  book."  Chicago  News, 


For  sale  by  mil  booksellers  or  seat  postpaid  on  receipt  of 
price  by  the  publishers 

LOTHROP,  LEE  &  SHEPARD  CO.,  BOSTON 


